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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850442">A_Very_Smol_Bean's Whumptober 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_very_smol_bean/pseuds/a_very_smol_bean'>a_very_smol_bean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whumptober 2020, help please it's 2 am, nevermind it means real person fiction im just dumb, there's a pretty equal angst to fluff ratio if i'm being honest, what can i say except i'm trapped in a basement and forced to write, what does rpf mean like why is it on every character tag what</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:40:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_very_smol_bean/pseuds/a_very_smol_bean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's October and I've decided to torture myself by writing about torturing popular-block-game characters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>519</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. woooo it's october</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I've decided to do Whumptober.</p><p>The quality on my writing might drop a bit because I'm not used to writing every day, and ofc the posts will be a lot shorter, but I think this might be a fun exercise. I'll be using characters from the Dream SMP and Hermitcraft (MCYT), and all relationships are PLATONIC.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>I'll be using the prompts from https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/about. I'll also put the prompts in the title, the format being TITLE | PROMPT | PROMPT | PROMPT |. Enjoy?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Let’s hang out sometime.  | Waking up restrained | Shackled | Hanging |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>!massive trigger warning for the entire work!<br/>It's going to contain a lot of blood as it goes on, mentions of abuse, etc. It gets dark. very dark. please read with caution!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dream awoke to a bright light shining in his eyes. He immediately became aware of the bonds securing his wrists behind him and his legs to a chair he sat in. His first instinct was to strain against the ropes, but his efforts proved futile. The ropes were too tight, barely loose enough to let blood flow into his fingers and toes. After struggling for a few more seconds, Drea, gave up and stared at the ceiling instead. A sea lantern sat embedded in the concrete above his head, matching the plain concrete walls around him. He suddenly noticed that there were people standing around him. Three figures, to be exact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first stepped forward. “Finally. He’s awake.” George’s glasses glinted in the bright light. “Wakey wakey, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dream</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like we won.” Sapnap stepped up next to George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream shook his head, confused. “What… you won? Won what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third and final person spoke. “We won Manhunt, silly.” Badboyhalo smirked. In his hands was an enchanted trident, points freshly sharpened. “Don’t you remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Memories flooded back into Dream’s head. He remembered a big chase, running through a village, then there was a ravine… then nothing. “What… how?” He was supposed to be the main character. He wasn’t supposed to lose. This made no sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fell down that ravine.” George said, crossing his arms. “It knocked you out, but it didn’t kill you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” Dream looked at each of his supposed friends’ faces in turn. “If I didn’t die… doesn’t that mean you haven’t won yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad chuckled. “Yeah.” He hefted the trident. “That’s where this bad boy comes in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every time for the past six months you’ve beaten us, and each time you don’t kill us.” Sapnap proclaimed. “All you do is stand there and boast, mocking us in front of everyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” George said. “We’re the villains in your story. I guess it’s time to finally act like ones.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream leaned back in his chair as Bad came closer to him, trident pointed at Dream’s chest. “Hold on, wait! We can talk about this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad continued advancing towards the helpless man in the chair. “Talk? You think we can TALK about this???” His eyes watered as he furiously glared at Dream. “You were supposed to kill us six months ago, Dream! Those are the rules! But no, you left us alive with scars that changed our lives. We were called crippled, dumb, too worthless to even have the mercy of death, much less by the hands of the ‘almighty Dream’!” Bad pressed the points of the trident into Dream’s chest. “You don’t know what it’s like to wake up every morning and not be able to see out of one eye. You don’t know what it feels like to walk down the road and be booed at from inside shops. You don’t know!” Behind him, Sapnap and George stood still and watched the scene unfold. “You’ve always been the good guy, the hero of the tale. You don’t know pain like we do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream stared helplessly into Bad’s rage-filled eyes. There was no way to get out of this. He could only watch as Bad shoved the trident into his abdomen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain blossomed from his stomach and chest as the trident sank into his flesh. A single tear rolled down both George’s and Dream’s faces as they made eye contact. Dream felt the hurt radiating off the goggled man, hurt that he’d caused. Sapnap turned away as Bad twisted the weapon, making Dream gasp in agony. As his vision started to fade, he looked back up at Bad. The demon boy stood over him, no regret or remorse showing in his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to hell, Muffinhead.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>help i'm so behind aaaa</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In the Hands of the Enemy | “Pick who dies” | Collars | Kidnapped |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>part 2 of me desperately trying to catch up to current day</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Please, stop!” Wilbur shouted. “I swear to god, I’ll kill you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll kill me?” Jschlatt taunted. “Might be a little tough to do that from across the room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur strained against the collar and chain that kept him at the far wall, away where Schlatt stood. Next to Schlatt, three figures kneeled with identical collars binding them to the floor. Tommy struggled against his, letting out frustrated whimpers as he watched Schaltt bring a knife closer to Tubbo’s face. Niki just watched, tears running freely down her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Schlatt, don’t you dare touch Tubbo! You bastard, I swear I’ll fucking wreck you!” Tommy shouted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt only smiled as he cut a gash into Tubbo’s left cheek. The boy whimpered in pain, too scared to scream. The whimper hit Wilbur in the gut like a hammer and he continued to pull against his collar, pleading in his head for it to suddenly snap and free him. Schlatt let go of Tubbo and moved over to Niki, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her close to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Wilbur yelled, desperate to not let any more harm to come to his friends. The shout did not deter Schlatt, as he held the knife to Niki’s cheek the same way he did to Tubbo’s. “Please, I’m begging you, take me instead!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt cocked his head. “If you were really begging,” He sneered, “You’d be on your knees.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stared at Schlatt for a moment, then shakily sank to his knees. Schlatt released his hold on Niki and walked over to stand above Wilbur. For a moment Wilbur thought he was really going to release him, but his hopes were shattered when Schlatt squatted down to eye level. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Repeat after me.” Schlatt said in a low tone. “I, Wilbur Soot, President of L’manburg, beg you to release me and my friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stared defiantly up at Schlatt, searching for a way around this humiliation, but deep down he knew there was no other way. Voice wavering, he repeated the sentence back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… Wilbur Soot… President of L’manburg…” He met Tommy’s eyes from across the room. The teen looked back with a pained expression on his face. Wilbur knew that seeing his friends like this hurt Tommy as much as it did him. “I… I beg you to release me and my friends.” Wilbur finished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt, apparently satisfied, stood back up. “Splendid. I’ll give you a choice then.” He made his way back over to Tommy’s side of the room. “I’ll let you go, but one of these three has to die.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What!?” Wilbur exclaimed. “No!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt shrugged. “No deal? Okay then. I’ll just kill all three.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, take me instead!” Wilbur tried to search for an alternative. The others stared at him with a mixture of shock and fear on their faces, not saying a thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. Has to be one of these three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence as Wilbur looked at each of his friends in turn. Tommy was the first to speak up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur.” His voice was softer than usual, but there was an edge of determination to it. “Choose me. I’m the youngest. I don’t have any plans for the future. The others do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, choose me!” Tubbo piped up. “I’m expendable. I’m just a pawn. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo…” Tommy stared in disbelief at his best friend. “You’re not--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I stood by his side, Tommy! I’m a filthy traitor. I’m not worth shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki, who had been silent up until now, raised her eyes to meet Wilbur’s. “Wilbur, please. You know it has to be me. They’re young, they have their lives ahead of them. I’ve lived mine.” Tears fell from her eyes as she locked them with Wilbur’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Wilbur was crying now, teardrops hitting the floor under him. “I can’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.” Niki smiled a teary smile at him. “I forgive you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Tommy yelled. “Wilbur! Take me!” He and Tubbo shouted over each other as they tried in vain to take Niki’s place. Schlatt walked up behind her and drew a crossbow, positioning it behind her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any last words?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki never took her eyes off Wilbur. “I love you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bam.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay this one was genuinely sad for such a short story. I'm sorry :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. My Way or the Highway | Manhandled | Forced to their knees | Held at gunpoint |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize severely for my complete lack of knowledge when it comes to tagging things</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy stumbled down the dirt path, tripping on almost every pebble beneath him. The rough road gave him no mercy, poking at his bare feet and making it hard to stand. Quackity pushed him along, keeping a loaded crossbow at his back in case he tried to run, though his options were limited as his hands hung bound in front of him. The trees surrounding them were thick and dark. Only moonlight lit his way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They approached the end of the pathway, where Jschlatt stood, waiting for them to arrive. He held a lantern in his left hand, the only visible source of light for many blocks. Its yellow glow glinted off his curved horns and illuminated the clearing around him. Tommy was stopped, then forced to his knees directly in front of the President. Schlatt looked down at Tommy, grinning wickedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, well, well.” He sneered. “What do we have here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cut the crap, Jschlatt.” Tommy growled. “Where’s Tubbo?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy looked around the area, but he couldn’t see any sign of his best friend. The dim light didn’t really help, either. “You told me this was going to be a negotiation. I came to you unarmed. This is what you offer in return!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, Jschlatt looked up to the sky. “You really thought I’d play nice, didn’t you?” He turned his gaze back down to Tommy. “Too bad. Now I have you AND your so-called </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> my friend.” Tommy mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that? I can’t quite hear you.” Jschlatt put his hand to his ear in a mocking manner. A red blush spread across Tommy’s cheeks as he realized he was being humiliated, and he retaliated with volume and anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo IS my friend, and I demand to see him RIGHT NOW.” Tommy spat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s cute.” Schlatt absentmindedly touched his horns, unintimidated by the teen kneeling in front of him. “Enough of this. Quackity, take him to the holding cell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What!?” Tommy yelled. He tried to jerk away from Quackity, who hoisted him up by the arm and started to drag him away. “This wasn’t the agreement! You were supposed to take me to Tubbo! Bastard! Let go of me!” His angry shouts faded into the background. Schlatt watched him get towed away, a sick sort of smile painted across his face. He glanced back up at the sky once more, speaking out into the quiet night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mom once told me that when people die, they look down on us from the stars.” He straightened his tie. “Tubbo, I hope you’re watching. This will be fun.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I did warn you they're going to be short...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Running Out of Time | Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay I'm actually proud of this one, please be nice it's 12 am</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Grian glanced around desperately at the trembling walls of the mansion. Large cracks appeared in the concrete and clay walls, growing deeper and more dangerous by the second. Grian made to run towards the exit, but a wall of clay came crashing down in front of it, sealing him inside. He tried to shout for help, but the noise of the mansion crumbling around him was too loud for anyone to hear.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” He could barely hear himself over the cacophony of noise. Prismarine shards rained down from the roof, cutting into his skin and making him cry out from both the shock and pain. He instinctively backed up against the wall, or what was left of it anyways. Debris was now falling freely around him, large chunks hitting the ground in booms that resonated throughout the base. How was nobody hearing this? Why had no one come to save him? He checked his inventory frantically for any rockets, but found that it was empty. He wasn’t even wearing his elytra!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “PLEASE, SOMEBODY, I’M TRAPPED IN HERE!” It was no use. As he looked up, a log beam hit him square in the back and shoved him to the ground. He coughed violently as the wind was knocked out of him, landing on his stomach with one hadn by his side. The log pinned him to the floor, making it impossible to move. Dirt and stone surrounded him, piling up and obstructing his view of the exit so painfully close yet so far. He reached out his free hand, calling out the names of his friends. “MUMBO! ISKALL! SCAR!” Would they save him? Did they even care? He coughed again, this time blood coming out of his mouth. Above him, a final boulder dislodged itself and hurted down towards the helpless player. Grian shut his eyes and prayed for rescue. Please… someone… anyone…  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Grian awoke in a cold sweat, reflexively kicking off his blankets. He gasped for air, trying to process the fact that it was only a dream. His pillow lay across the floor, and he had the sheets twisted around his feet in a knot. Grian’s breathing calmed a bit when he realized that the mansion was still standing, intact and sheltering him from the outside elements. That calm was almost instantly replaced by a strong urge to get the hell out. Claustrophobia set in, and Grian barely was able to don his elytra and grab some rockets before his feet carried him outside. </p><p>The cold, sweet outside air washed over him as he stepped outside. His anxiety faded, and he breathed a deep breath of relief. He spread his wings and took off, aching to move. The cool air rushed across his face as he soared over the various bases dotted around in the jungle. The server was so quiet at night… </p><p>A glint in a window caught the corner of his eye. Scar’s enchanted village lay dormant, save for a single house with its lights on. Grian turned towards it, curious to see why Scar was up so late. He arrived at the doorway with a soft thump, bare feet hitting the cobble a bit hard. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but it was opened before he could.</p><p>“Heyy, Grian!” Scar seemed his usual cheerful self, having changed out of his mayoral clothes and back into the purple wizard’s robe. “What brings you here so late at night?” </p><p>“I, ah, I couldn’t sleep and I saw your light on…” Grian said, taken aback by the energy and unsure whether to tell Scar about his nightmare. He pulled on a fake smile as to not concern the Mayor in any way. </p><p>“No worries.” Scar gestured for Grian to step inside. “Come. I can make us both hot chocolate.” </p><p>“Wait, really?” Grian was surprised by the friendliness displayed towards him. It had to be almost 2 am, plus he didn’t think that Scar would care enough to actually invite him in at this ungodly hour. The memory of the nightmare washed over him, how nobody came to save him… He knew it was just a dream, but it sat in the back of his mind like a persistent itch. “I don’t want to impose or anything--” He hastily tried to decline, but Scar grabbed his arm and pulled him in. </p><p>“Nonsense.” Scar grinned. “You’re my friend, whether you like it or not.” </p><p>A warm blanket of belonging settled over Grian’s shoulders as Scar closed the door behind him and busied himself in making the drinks. He should never have doubted his friends. Of course they loved and cared about him. Grian smiled, this time genuinely. He was so glad that he was friends with these awesome people. And to think he was about to refuse hot chocolate. Scandalous.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>how i felt about grian "blowing up" his mansion in ep44 tbh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Where Do You Think You’re Going? | On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Loosely based on recent Dream SMP events (recent as in literally today), the locations are a bit weird but bear with me</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy rounded the corner and grabbed smooth stone out of his inventory. He threw his hand out to place it, hastily covering up the entrance to Pogtopia. The cavern around him stood silent, only the beating of his heart and the placing of the stone punctuating the thick silence. The quiet only added to his panic, making him accidentally misplace a few blocks, though there was no time to fix it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo!” He said, trying to not let his voice echo throughout the ravine. “Are they close?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo stood near the main exit to the overworld, nervously glancing to the hallway behind him. “I don’t see them.” He replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy finished patching up the hole, leaving just a two block gap wide enough to fit through. “Come on. We have to go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Tommy turned around to face Tubbo. The older boy was standing hesitantly in the same place as before, not moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo, we’re running out of time!” Tommy could hear the desperation in his voice. If Schlatt found Pogtopia, or worse, if Schlatt found them together, there was no telling what he’d do. Tubbo met his eyes, but they weren’t afraid. They were full of determination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, if we run now, Schlatt will discover Pogtopia. It’s only a matter of time.” Tubbo sighed. “I know you won’t like this plan, but If I stay as a diversion, I can maybe lead them away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They think I’m on their side, Tommy. You know this is the best option. If you get out, maybe you can find Wilbur and we’ll meet up someplace safer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy hated to admit it, but Tubbo was right. He stepped up and placed a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got this.” Tubbo smiled and nodded. Voices echoed behind him in the hallway, and he quickly pushed Tommy through the opening into Pogtopia. “Quick. Go.” Tommy hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave his friend, then placed the final few blocks and sealed the hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muffled voices filtered through the stone walls, and it took a moment for Tommy to realize that they were coming through a small hole higher up the wall. He stopped in his tracks, curiosity taking over. He had to know what happened to Tubbo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there, Tubbo. Whatcha doing down here?” He identified the voice of Quackity. Pressing his eye to the hole, he could only make out Tubbo’s and Quackity’s sides. He couldn’t tell how many more people were with them, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I just wanted some peace and quiet. It’s hard to catch a break around here, what with the war going on and all.” Tubbo’s voice didn’t waver or break. Tommy was slightly startled by how well Tubbo controlled the situation. Seems he was a better actor than people gave him credit for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting. It’s quite far from Manburg, though, is it not?” That was Jschlatt’s voice. Tommy’s brows furrowed as a deep hatred for the man spread from his chest and throughout his body. That man was his sworn enemy, and he’d left Tubbo to face him all alone. Tommy couldn’t help feeling guilty, but he reminded himself that Tubbo was smart. He knew Tubbo could take care of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I just needed a change of scenery.” Tubbo replied, pulling on a mask of innocence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” For a moment it looked as if Schlatt didn’t believe Tubbo, and Tommy’s heart threatened to jump out of his throat. Had Schlatt heard them talking before he walled up the passage? Tubbo didn’t flinch, though, and after a few seconds Schlatt changed subjects. “On other news, guess what I have for you?” He pulled out gray fabric and a green tie from his inventory. “It’s your suit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-my suit?” A crack appeared in Tubbo’s facade, just for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! Yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Tubbo seemed almost sad, but put on a smile nonetheless. “Thank you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, I have things to discuss with you. This little… break of yours will have to wait.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy didn’t wait to hear the rest of the conversation. He turned and ran up the stairs towards the back exit of Pogtopia. He needed to find Wilbur, and he was certain that Tubbo had the situation under control. He made a vow to himself never to underestimate Tubbo ever again, now knowing that doing so always led to failure. A grin appeared on his face as he climbed the stairs two at a time out of the ravine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just you wait, Schlatt. You have no idea who you’re messing with.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>83 kudos?? Guys, you're spoiling me &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Please…  | “Get it out” | No more | “Stop, please” |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>GUYS THANK YOU FOR 100 KUDOS, THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>(1/2)</p><p>The hypixel Skywars arena loaded in quickly, bright daylight filling in the vast map. Dream selected the enderpearl kit inside his glass chamber, adrenaline already surging through him. Skywars wasn’t his usual choice of gameplay, but he’d been playing it more often over the past few days, and he had to admit it was a lot more fun than he gave it credit for. As the countdown reached zero, the glass chamber’s bottom opened up and Dream was dropped into the map. He quickly rifled through the chests near him, searching for useful items to take with him to the center. His island wasn’t as lucky as he’d hoped, though. None of the chests contained extra enderpearls, and the best piece of armour he got was diamond leggings. No problem. He would just have to settle for killing people at mid. </p><p>Speedbridging the gap between islands, Dream reached mid in a matter of seconds. Players were already engaging in duels everywhere. He needed a place to hide before they spotted him, and he needed it now. Dream spotted a chest leaning against a stone pillar, but it was too risky to try and grab. If he ran for it, he would surely be spotted. Good. About time for a challenge. </p><p>Players were dropping like flies now, having either been thrown off the map or killed by their opponents. Sprinting across the playing field, Dream dodged an arrow and threw up his shield. An alex skin tried to attack him, but he bumped them off a ledge before they could get a proper swing in. He vaulted over a moss-covered boulder and shoulder-rolled to a stop in front of the chest. Dream silently applauded himself for the maeuver. He opened the chest, disappointed to only find a few arrows and some boots inside. He was about to leave them there when he sensed a player behind him. Dream slid to his left just in time for a diamond sword to come crashing down where he was previously sat. His attacker, a pale-skinned player in a black and green hoodie, equipped their shield and wound back for another swing with their weapon. Dream knew it was going to be an easy fight from the way the player awkwardly held the blade, like it was too heavy for them to hold. The player obviously didn’t have lots of practice. </p><p>Jumping forward, Dream faked a swipe to the left and slammed his sword into the player’s shield, sending them stumbling back. The player stepped dangerously close to the edge of the map, but regained their balance just in time. Dream noticed a peculiar thing about them in that moment-- the player displayed no username above them. There was only a blank space where the name should be. This thought quickly left his head when the player attacked again, this time with more force. Dream blocked each one of his opponent’s swings, pushed back a step with each one. The closer he got to the edge, the stronger the player’s swings got. The player paused slightly in between attacks, which gave Dream exactly the window he needed to turn this fight around. He took the opening and hit the player in the chest with the butt of his newly equipped iron sword, pushing them over and onto the ground. The player looked up at Dream as he raised the sword above his head for the finishing blow, though their expression wasn’t of awe or frustration like the other players he’d faced. It was a smile. </p><p>The player saw Dream hesitate and pulled out a vial filled with mysterious red liquid. It resembled a regeneration potion, but with a weird orange sheen to it. The player threw the bottle at Dream, hitting him in the face. The glass bottle broke, but rather than splattering everywhere the liquid exploded like powder in Dream’s mouth and nose. He coughed, dropping to one knee and letting go of his sword. The mysterious player laughed out loud, then abruptly disappeared, leaving Dream behind. </p><p>Dream’s vision clouded in red, blurry and unfocused. Something wasn’t right about that potion. Hands shaking, he typed out the command to return to the Hub. If he could get back there, all potion effects and injuries would clear themselves automatically like they did after every game. His vision swirled as he teleported back, a normal occurrence except for the fact that it was still tinged red at the sides. Dream sighed in relief as he was transported into the Hub, knowing that the potion’s effects would leave him and he could research what it was later on.</p><p>As his feet hit the ground inside the Hub, he could tell something was still wrong. The red hadn’t cleared from his vision, and he felt like he was about to pass out. Stumbling, he fell to the carpeted floor once more and coughed harshly. Around him, the hub started to transform. The walls turned into bright pink lava, faces intertwined with the swirling texture. Players became massive beasts with yellow eyes, screaming in ungodly voices. Dream covered his ears in a desperate attempt to shut the noise out, but found that the noise was coming from <em> inside </em> him. He could hear his friends’ voices calling out to him from his chest and stomach, and as he looked down he found his body to be glowing in a green light. The voices inside slowly got more an more distorted as the Hub fell to pieces around him. </p><p><em> Dream… </em> The voices taunted him. <em> Oh, Dream……. </em></p><p><em> Get out. </em>He could barely see, his vision almost completely red.</p><p>
  <em> Come here, Dreamy…  </em>
</p><p><em> I said, get out! </em>He pulled his backup dagger from his boot, the purple netherrite turning blue in front of his very eyes. He raised it up and drove it downwards, connecting with the green light inside.</p><p><em> Get OUT. </em> The voices screamed at him as he cut them over and over again. <em> GET OUT. GET. OUT. GET-- </em></p><p>Then the green was gone. There was only red, but now he could see. The Hub was back to normal… No. There was still red everywhere. Red on his hands. Red on the carpet. He could hear players around him, though their voices were muffled, like he was hearing through cotton. Too loud. Someone said his name, but he didn’t lift his head. Brown boots came to a stop in front of him. then there was black. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LiKe f Or pArT tWo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I’ve Got You | Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember: PLATONIC.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>(2/2)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream awoke in a soft pink bed, head throbbing to high heaven. The room around him was decorated in soft pinks and golds, white curtains not stopping the sunlight from shining through. He didn’t have his shirt on, but white bandages covered his abdomen. He tried to sit up, but found that his arms were cuffed to the bed’s railings. Panic immediately set in, and he tried to break free, but someone’s hand grabbed his wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa! Whoa. Stop.” The deep monotone was incredibly familiar. Dream twisted his head to look up at his captor, vision slowly blurring into focus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T… Techno?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Technoblade sat back into the chair by the bedside. “Yeah, that would be me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where… am I?” Dream said, trying to process the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s a hideout of mine.” Techno replied nonchalantly. “I beat Hypixel in a duel recently, and was generously given a private room.” His expression softened a little as he met Dream’s eyes. “Do you need anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me..?” Dream was confused. Wasn’t he being held prisoner? And if not, why was he chained to the bed? “Wait, what happened?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno sighed. “You… You, uh, kind of stabbed yourself half to death in front of a lobby full of nine year olds.” He gestured to the restraints. “Those were there to make sure you didn’t… try anything else.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait wait wait. So you’re not kidnapping me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno seemed taken aback by the question. “What!? No. I mean, we are enemies and whatnot, but no I’m not kidnapping you. I’m taking care of you.” He glanced around the room. “Besides, does this look like a prison??”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just thought that because of these…” Dream looked at the cuffs. Techno pulled out a key and unlocked them, staring at Dream the whole time. Dream rubbed his wrists as the cuffs came loose. He looked back at Techno, who was still staring at him in a weird way. It was almost like the pvp-er was concerned for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So.” Techno said. “Do you want to talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Oh.” Dream shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” Techno leaned forward slightly as Dream explained what had happened. “There was this player that I fought with during skywars, but they had no name for some reason. When I went to finish them, they took out some sort of powder potion and blasted me in the face with it. I tried to return to the hub, but the effects didn’t wear off for some reason. And then--” Dream glanced at his bandages. “This happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno sat back in his chair. “Yeah, I figured as much. A lot of players have been hospitalized recently because of these. Apparently, hackers have been coming onto the server and drugging players whenever they lose. The hackers leave immediately afterwards so that Watchdog doesn’t catch them in the act. You must have been dosed with a much stronger compound, though. The most that’s happened was passing out or small hallucinations. Nothing of this scale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream felt sick. It comforted him a little that his hallucinations were just a drug, but who would do this to people? What kind of sick bastard would drive people to suicide attempts just because they lost a friendly game? “What did it look like from your perspective?” He asked, curious to know what onlookers saw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” Techno seemed slightly uncomfortable recalling the event, as though it was traumatic to him. “You arrived in and fell over, then you started yelling something, then you took out your knife and stabbed yourself in the stomach.” Techno’s eyes were averted. “Not something you see every day, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream didn’t respond. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. What if someone decided to launch a full-scale attack on the server? People would die. His friends could die. The thought of them inhaling the powder, their vision tinged red… Dream’s breaths grew quicker. He was lucky that Techno had found him just at the right time, but what if his friends weren’t as fortunate? His vision started to close in like it did under the effects of the potion, this time black at the edges. He whimpered slightly, drawing the attention of Techno, who had been staring at the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno put one hand on Dream’s arm and another on his head. “Hey, hey, hey, shhh.” He stroked Dream’s hair lightly in an effort to calm him down. “You’re safe.” When Dream didn’t respond to the statement, Techno continued. “Your friends are too. They all heard about your accident and have decided to take a day off.” At this Dream began to relax, and his breathing slowed to a normal pace. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll catch the people who did this.” Techno continued to run a hand through Dream’s dirty blonde hair. Dream reflexively laid his head on Techno’s chest, and Techno moved forwards to close the space between them. They sat there for a moment, neither one bothering to move. When the moment was over, Dream sat back up and put a hand on Techno’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” He smiled at the pigman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno returned the smile. “So, does this mean we are enemies, or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. I’m sickly.” Dream pretended to be in pain, eliciting a chuckle from Techno. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough, Dream, fair enough.” He responded. “Let’s take a day off from being rivals.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let’s. It’s been one heck of a day already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed. Friends today?” Techno held out his right hand. Dream shook it without a second thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>people it's 12 am again remind me why do i do this to myself</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Where Did Everybody Go? | “Don’t say goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY FUNDY :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mumbo awoke to the sunlight being a red amber. Weird. He sat there confused for a moment, then quickly got up and dressed to see what was the matter. Throwing on his black suit and tie, he stepped outside of his base to find… nothing.</p><p> </p><p>The sky was a deep orange, clouds red and angry. The grass around his feet was brown and dead, as were the leaves on the trees. The jungle, once lush and full of life, lay dead and decomposing, trees littering the ground wherever he looked. The moat around his base ran dry, no water anywhere in sight. Nothing moved. It was silent.</p><p>He turned around to look at his base, finding that it was much more ruined than he remembered it. The top was nearly all gone, as though someone had decapitated it. The heart lay shattered in gold and brown pieces, not moving or making any noise. The base was dead. Even the wrenches surrounding the perimiter were rusted and cracked. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What was going on? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Strapping into his elytra, Mumbo took off with an inventory full of golden carrots and rockets. His storage system had caved in, leaving him with just a few shulker boxes of supplies. He turned towards the direction of Iskall’s base, finding it odd that the massive tree wasn’t visible like it normally was, especially since there was no fog or rain. As he flew over, he spotted a massive brown mass in the dead forest below where Iskall’s base should be. He dropped closer to it, then gasped. It was the Omega Tree.</p><p>The great oak lay rotting on the ground, the inside visible from the decay. Its massive roots stuck up into the air sideways, presumably torn from the ground when the tree fell. Mumbo tried to land on the trunk, but gave up quickly since the wood crumbled beneath his feet.</p><p>“Iskall?” He called. His voice echoed throughout the jungle, but there was no response. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Where was everyone? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Mumbo took off in the direction of the shopping district, forgetting about the Nether Hub entirely. He passed Grian’s base, now just a pile of prismarine and stone laying atop a mountain. Scar’s enchanted village was completely bulldozed, the crystal and the homes in ruins. Stress’s butterflies lay broken nearby. The entire scene spread out in front of Mumbo as he flew by hastily. He had to see the shopping district. He had to know what happened. </p><p>He arrived at the shopping district and stopped dead. There was no more grass. There was no more mycelium. There were no more roads, or shops, or people. It was all dirt and rubble. In a daze, he walked the island in a slow circle. The Red Zone’s walls had fallen down the hill next to the mess that was once Colour Complete. The Omegastore’s redstone ball was missing from its pedestal, having crashed through the ceiling and into the shop. The Boomers and Lookie Lookie at my Bookie were in no better shape, lacking walls and roofs. The Barge had sunk to the floor of the pond, chests floating inside the half-submerged space. Behind it, the Town Hall was barely standing, the roof caved in and the pillars cracked. The diamond trees lay felled in front of it. Even Mumbo’s own store, ODEA, was nothing more than bits of concrete floating in the ocean. </p><p> </p><p><em> What the </em> hell <em> happened here??? </em></p><p> </p><p>“Anyone?” Mumbo called again. Still no response. Panic was slowly rising in his stomach, anxiety weaving tight threads of fear in his chest. He whirled around the center plaza, searching for any sign of life. His eyes landed on the Shopping District nether portal, which thankfully was still standing, though not lit. He rushed towards it and pulled out a flint and steel, producing a spark that should have lit the portal, but no purple light appeared. The frame didn’t become a portal like it should have. Mumbo struck the steel against the flint again and again, but still the portal did not light. He turned and ran back into the shopping district, not caring where his feet carried him. Tears flew from his face while he ran, tears of alarm and distress. He called out to each one of his friends in turn, desperately hoping that someone would come find him. </p><p>“Grian!” He sprinted past the barge. “Iskall!” The Omega Store whizzed by in a blur. “Scar!” The town hall behind him got slowly further and further away. Mumbo came to a stop at the edge of the ocean, looking out to where Grumbot once sat. The big chamber was no longer there, probably underwater like everything else. Mumbo sank to his knees, tears spilling down his face as he continued to call out to his friends. No one answered. No one came. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Please. Don’t leave me here.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I don’t want to be alone.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>guys believe me I am trying to catch up but these take so long to write ;-; Thank you for all the support though, this collection has almost twice the kudos my other stories have and honestly it's one of the main things keeping me going. Again, thank you SO much for sticking with me and leaving nice comments, they're much appreciated and I hope all you lovely people have great mornings/evenings!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. For the Greater Good | “Take me instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I forgot to post this chapter yesterday because my mum walked in ;-;</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>(1/2)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We gather here tonight for the execution of Tommyinnit and TubboLive.” Jschlatt’s voice rang out from the podium once used for the presidential elections. The crowd of onlookers watched as him as he spoke, echoing across the rows of wooden seats. “The charges against them are of rebellion, destruction of property, and--” He paused, seeming to savour the moment. “Treason.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy looked at Tubbo from his place on the podium. Both boys were tied to a fence post, forced to their knees with hands behind their backs. Quackity stood behind Tubbo while George stood behind Tommy, both holding crossbows to the prisoners’ heads. Tubbo returned eye contact, knowing that Tommy was equally as scared as he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TubboLive.” Schlatt said, not turning around to face him but instead speaking out to the crowd. “The allegations against you are of trading intelligence with the terrorist cell known as Pogtopia and attempting to sabotage and destroy Manberg. Do you have anything to say in your defense?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, actually.” Tubbo spoke with a determined edge to his voice. “I believe that I’m finally on the right side of history, so if you want to kill me, go ahead.” He glared at the back of Schlatt’s head. “I hope everyone else comes to realize what I have-- that you’re a corruptive bastard who cares only about himself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt didn’t respond to the insult. “Tommyinnit. The allegations against you are resisting arrest, allying with the dangerous criminal known as Wilbur Soot, and conspiring against the president. Do you have anything to say in your defense?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Tommy spat at Schlatt’s feet. “Go to hell.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then. Do either of you have any last words before your execution?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy debated shouting at Jschlatt, but decided to at least try to preserve his dignity. He bit his lip, determined to not let anyone see how afraid he was-- not of death, but for his friends. All of this for nothing. Tommy chuckled wryly. What a waste. “I have some last words for you.” He looked out into the audience, searching across the sea of faces for any signs of disgust or horror. “I hope you all remember what happens here tonight. I hope you all remember that on this day your beloved president slaughtered two innocent men under false charges to protect his seat in power. What do you think of him now, hmm? Is he still your hero? Or is he the villain in this fucking trainwreck of a narrative? Think about that as they’re blowing my brains out, will you for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt turned around at this, making eye contact with Tommy, but instead of becoming angry… he grinned. “Wise words.” He addressed Tommy now instead of the crowd. “Coming from a rebel, that is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo opened their mouth to speak, and both Tommy and Schlatt turned their gazes towards them. “I have something to say as well.” Tubbo locked eyes with Tommy. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for this mess I’ve made.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy felt tears sting the corners of his vision. He let them gather there, not caring who saw anymore. “Tubbo… I love you too. You know that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gentlemen.” Schlatt nodded at Quackity and George. “You may proceed.” They raised their crossbows to Tubbo’s and Tommy’s heads, fingers on the trigger. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain. He didn’t want to die. God, he didn’t want to die. Not now. He was too young. His time hadn’t come yet. Please, somebody save me, someone please-- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s eyes shot open and he stared at Tubbo. The 16-year old held his head down, staring intently at the floor. “Shoot me first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Even Schlatt seemed surprised at this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I want you to do me first. It’s my final request.” Tubbo’s voice shook a bit as he spoke. Tommy said nothing. Tubbo never did anything without a reason. What could he be planning? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well.” Schlatt gestured at George to come stand by Tubbo. George lowered the crossbow from Tommy’s head and took a step towards Tubbo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly everything lit up in a bright flash of light. Time seemed to slow down as Tommy watched George be knocked to the ground along with Schlatt. Tommy himself was thrown to the side, hitting his head on the floor. Pieces of wood flew everywhere, grazing his exposed arms and legs. There was a sharp pain in his side. He was dimly aware of shouting and screaming before he was pulled to his feet and everything sped back to normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up, Tommy!” Wilbur shouted over the cacophony of noise. “We’ve gotta go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Tubbo?” Tommy replied. He shot a glance at the other end of the podium. Tubbo and Quackity stood unharmed by the blast. Quackity still had the crossbow pointed at Tubbo’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t!” Tubbo yelled. “Go, Wilbur! This is your only chance!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur pulled on Tommy’s arm, but he wasn’t budging. “I can’t leave you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes you can!” Tubbo had tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m going to be okay, I promise!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Tommy screamed. There were two sets of hands pulling on him now, dragging him further and further away from his best friend. The podium caught fire, the flames racing up the wooden support beams almost instantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Tommy! We have to leave.” Eret said to him, but Tommy was still transfixed on Tubbo. He watched as Schlatt pulled a crossbow out of his inventory and primed it. For a moment he thought Schlatt would shoot at him, but horror settled in his stomach as Schlatt aimed it at Tubbo instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo!” He screamed, but it was too late. The arrow flew from its chamber, lodging itself squarely between Tubbo’s ribs. Tubbo coughed once, spraying blood onto the planks before him, then fell with the podium as it crumbled. Tommy’s vision was obscured by the falling beams that threatened to crush him as well, and he finally let his rescuers take him away. The sky lit up a crimson shade as smoke filled Manberg once again. Somewhere in the distance, warning bells tolled out to warn villagers of the fire that was spreading across the town. Tommy heard none of it as his vision faded to black. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeah I use Jschlatt as the villain a lot of the time, but Dream SMP kind of has Tommy as the main character and it fits to have Schlatt as the villain in this scenario. I DO plan to write some Villbur in the future, though, it seems like an interesting thing to explore.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. They Look So Pretty When They Bleed | Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of blood |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for still being behind T.T I have so much schoolwork</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>(2/2)</p><p>
  <em> “Go, Wilbur! This is your only chance!” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> “I can’t leave you!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Yes, yes you can!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m going to be okay, I promise!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I promise…”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tommy was in an unfamiliar room, the walls black and pulsing like a heart beat. In front of him was a dark doorway, nothing visible beyond it. A trail of crimson blood led into it. Somehow, Tommy knew it was Tubbo’s.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tommy!” A scream rang out from inside the darkness. Tommy tried to run towards it, but the dark crept up his legs and held him in place.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tubbo!” He struggled against the dark, but it only crawled further up his body. “Tubbo, I’m coming, I’m--” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Now he was back on the podium, flames surrounding him. The heat hit him in the face like a sledgehammer. Tubbo stood in front of him, arrow protruding from his chest. A pool of blood surrounded him, too much blood for it to be from a human being. Tubbo-- The thing raised his hand, his eyes black voids on his face, and reached for Tommy.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Tommy…” The thing said in Tubbo’s voice. “Run, Tommy…” It started to cry tears of dark blood, dripping onto the puddle below it. Its face and torso slowly melted as it caught fire, the blood lighting up like gasolene. “I’m going to be okay, Tommy…”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tommy bolted upright, gasping for air. A cold sweat clung to him like a wet shirt, and there was a stabbing pain in his right side. He clutched at it to find bandages wrapped entirely around his arm and abdomen. As his senses returned to him, he felt bruises all along his sides and a splitting headache that almost made him shut his eyes again. His throat felt raw, probably from screaming, and his legs ached with the soreness of a full day’s running. </p><p>No one else was in the room where he lay, the place having no windows and empty of everything except his bed and an ender chest. The walls were a light gray, lanterns spaced out intermittently across it, and the bed had pristine white sheets in which Tommy was now entangled. There was a door to his right made of spruce planks, but it was shut. </p><p>Tommy felt dizzy, and he fell back down onto the bed as his head spun. He tried to recall the events that led to his numerous injuries, then… Oh my god. His eyes welled up with tears. Tubbo. My Tubbo. </p><p>The door to his right opened and Eret walked in, carrying fresh bandages and some mushroom stew. He almost dropped the items when he saw that Tommy was awake. </p><p>“Tommy! You’re awake! Thank goodness.” Tommy didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling. “I brought you some food. You need to regain your strength, you’ve lost a lot of blood.” When there was still no answer from the kid, Eret took it as an invitation to explain everything. </p><p>“The fire from the podium spread everywhere through Manberg, there’s no chance they’ll be attacking us any time soon.” He said. “The explosion didn’t kill any residents, but George is in critical condition and Schlatt hasn’t broadcasted his injury status. They’re calling us terrorists for real now, but I’m pretty sure that was unavoidable from the beginning.” </p><p>“What about Tubbo?” Tommy’s voice was dry from disuse. It hurt to speak, but he needed to know. </p><p>Eret’s expression softened into one of solemn empathy. “Tommy… I’m so sorry. They died during the fire.” </p><p>Tommy let the tears fall from his eyes. He didn’t care. Tubbo was dead. “He… he promised… ” </p><p>“Hey.” Eret muttered to him in a soothing tone. “Hey, it’s okay.” He tried to put a hand on Tommy’s, but it was snatched away. </p><p>“No, it’s not going to be okay!” Tommy yelled, furiously staring at Eret. “Nothing is going to be okay!” The pain from his sore throat didn’t deter him from raising the volume of his trembling voice. “Why couldn’t you have saved him? Why didn’t you let ME save him?? I could have done it, Eret. We left them behind! So don’t fucking tell me it’s going to be okay when I left him to die alone at the hands of a ruthless dictator. FUCK YOU.” Tommy hoped that Eret would get angry at him, that he’d yell back, but that didn’t happen. </p><p>“Tommy, he knew he wasn't getting out of there as soon as you were captured. We agreed that whatever happened, you were the priority.” Eret replied in a low, almost regretful tone. “There was no other way.” </p><p>“Yeah, but did I ASK to be a priority???” Tommy was still angry, angry at Eret for being so calm, angry at Tubbo for trading his life, angry at the world for taking the one person he truly loved away. “I’m fucking worthless! All I do is yell and screw things up. I’m a waste of space.” He couldn’t say any more because his tears were in the way. </p><p>“Oh, Tommy.” Eret put his hand on Tommy’s, and this time Tommy let him. When the hand wasn’t withdrawn, Eret pulled the sobbing teen closer to him, resting Tommy’s head on his chest. “You aren’t any of those things. Tubbo loved you more than anything. He’d trade his life for you all over again if he had to and you know that.” This only made Tommy cry harder, and his anger slowly melted to make way for the onlasught of tired emotions that he was so desperately hodling back. </p><p>“I- I just want him back.” He confessed into Eret’s shoulder.</p><p>“I know.” Eret responded. “I want him back too, but there’s nothing we can do to change anything. We just have to keep on going.” He stroked Tommy’s arm in a caring manner. The two stayed there for a long time, not speaking.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing more needed to be said.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A few quick notes: I don't always use every single tag, I try to incorporate at least two but it doesn't always work out. Also, about people with multiple pronouns: I usually stick with one set of pronouns per chapter/oneshot, so it might be a little confusing. +Eret has said that they're uncomfortable with being shipped, and I'm clarifying once again that I AM NOT SHIPPING ANYONE. Everything here is platonic/sibling-like love for hurt/comfort purposes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Psych 101 | Defiance | Struggling | Crying |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The prompts for this chapter are a pretty accurate description of what it felt like to wake up this morning.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let go of me! Let fucking go!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Smack</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The palm of Anon’s hand hit Skeppy’s cheek hard, pushing him backwards a little bit. His hands were tied in front of him in a prayer-like position, so there was nothing he could do to stop from falling onto his backside. The impact sent a sharp jolt up his tailbone and he grunted in pain. Anon turned his back to him, moving to leave through the only door in the dark room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, just let me go! I won’t tell anyone, I promis--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anon whirled around and grabbed Skeppy by the collar of his shirt, hoisting him back up to eye level. How the hell was he this strong?? “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” Anon growled in his abnormally deep voice, close enough for Skeppy to smell his foul breath. Anon dropped him and exited the holding cell swiftly, leaving barely enough time for Skeppy to try and talk his way out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please! I have coins, I can give you coins if you want! Just let me leave and we can talk about this!” The door to the room shut with a loud thud, once again enveloping Skeppy in complete darkness. Skeppy sat there for a moment, weighing his options. He had to get out of here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been late evening when he was snatched. Skeppy was about to log out of hypixel, a long day well spent playing its games. He checked the time on his communicator and found he was running late again. Bad wanted him home for dinner. He’d un-nicked himself after looking around the empty lobby, not wanting to wear his disguise any longer than he had to. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid, stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All of a sudden, hands had grabbed him from behind and a bag was pulled over his head. He’d immediately registered that he was being kidnapped and tried to fight back, but his abductors were much stronger than he was and overpowered him without a sweat. He was teleported out of the hypixel lobby and into the very room in which he now sat, no clue what they wanted from him. Once the bag was taken off his head, his kidnappers were revealed to him as a big, stocky man with matted brown hair and a dirty t-shirt (who he’d nicknamed “anonymous”, or just “anon”) and a smaller, ganglier man with bright yellow eyes (who he’d nicknamed “rat”). Neither had answered when Skeppy asked what was going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” He called out pitifully into the pitch black. The room couldn’t have been than big, but his voice still echoed back to him, reminding him of how weak he sounded. Skeppy felt like he was about to cry. There was no way to get out of here, was there? He was going to be here forever. He was never going to see Bad again. Silent tears began rolling down his cheeks as he stared in the direction he assumed was downwards. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t even get to say goodbye</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light from the doorway suddenly blinded him. Anon strode back in, a communicator in hand, Rat trailing in behind him. Skeppy quickly wiped the tears away, trying not to look vulnerable. Anon thrust the small communicator towards Skeppy. “Call.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Skeppy said in a small voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call your friend.” Anon repeated. Skeppy realized who he was referring to only a split second later. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can call Bad!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hands shaking, he dialed the familiar number from memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on, pick up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bad, pick up your communicator. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bad?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where are you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bad! Answer the call!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ring. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please, for the love of god check your--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The communicator was ripped out of his hands and thrust at Rat, who grabbed it and scurried out of the room. Skeppy let out an angry cry, desperate to speak to Bad, but Anon just laughed cruelly at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like your friends really don’t care about you, do they?” He said, sneering at Skeppy. Skeppy felt the tears begin anew and slumped down on his knees, not wanting to move or speak as Anon too left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darkness surrounded him as a single thought circled in his mind. Round and round in circles it went, tugging at his fragile heartstrings until he was sure they were going to snap. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why didn’t he answer?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile BadBoyHalo’s house: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bad sat at the dinner table, wiping tears from his eyes with a single tissue. The sound of his communicator buzzing from the other room penetrated the silence in the house, but he didn’t get up to answer it. It was probably Skeppy, calling to once again to spin some excuse about why he skipped dinner. Too late. Bad’s gaze hardened at the repeated buzzing coming from the living room. He stood and crossed the threshold into the room where his communicator sat buzzing on the couch and threw it against the wall, cracking the screen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t take this any longer,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If he doesn’t need me, I don’t need him either.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>200 kudos??? guys??? tysm but-- w̶̫̯̬̼͖̳̩̑͊͒̈́̐̔͘h̴̪̤̯͎͖͐̅͘͝y̷̢̡̲͗̕͝</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. I Think I’ve Broken Something | Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay I don't know how a broken leg works and I'm too afraid to look up references so bear with me please</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The forest was silent. The trees did not whisper as they waved in the breeze. The dew did not drip from grass blade to grass blade. No insects buzzed. No animals foraged. Sunlight shined through the crevices in the canopy, lighting the areas below in an ethereal glow. Somehow, the unnatural quiet belonged here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was abruptly shattered by the rustling of leaves and branches as a single figure ran between the trees. The figure said nothing as he rushed by, pushing aside sharp brush that stung his fingers and arms with their tiny limbs. His green collared shirt was torn and tattered, and evidence of a scuffle was displayed clearly across his freshly bruised arms. He didn’t stop running. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden the figure stumbled, tripping on a root, and fell to the forest floor. A loud crack was heard and he cried out, leg jutting out at an awkward angle. The pain was almost too much for him to bear, but he bit down hard on his fist and forced himself to look at the damage. Rolling up his dark blue jeans, he almost passed out as the pressure applied to his shin only increased the agony. His left foot was twisted forty-five degrees farther left than it should be, white bone visible under the darkening red flesh. He couldn’t help but whimper at the horrifying sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spotting a ditch nearby, he attempted to crawl towards it, but stopped as the pain threatened to make him lose consciousness once again. He stopped moving altogether, trying to get his thoughts under control. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One step at a time. Or rather, one crawl.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Reaching out with his right hand, he grasped the base of a young tree and pulled himself across the dead leaves covering the forest’s floor like a thick blanket. He managed to get halfway to the ditch before he had to stop again. His breathing escalated in speed rapidly as his leg throbbed harshly, and panic set in when he realized that his foot would no longer move when he tried to turn it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just one more pull. You got this.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He reached the ditch and rolled into it, unable to stand. The tumble pushed his leg closer to his body, bending it against his chest. White tendrils of torment raced up his thigh, eliciting a tortured sob from the poor boy. He put his back against the ditch wall, trying to regulate his breathing, when he heard the other one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More rustling as another figure came through the trees from the direction of the first one. He had on a ruffled red and white shirt, bright blonde hair messy from neglect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo?” The second figure called out into the never-ending woods. “Tubbo, come back! We can fix this.” There was a strange sort of sorrow to the words, as if they too held an unimaginable amount of pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy in the ditch didn’t answer. He sat trembling against the dirt wall, not making a sound. Seeming to give up, the second figure turned and ran the opposite direction, away from the ditch where the first sat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quiet returned to the woods once more. The stillness hung in the air, calm and undisturbed. The trees didn’t talk amongs themselves, the wind did not whistle merrily as it did miles away from here. The forest was silent as it should be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except for one thing. Small sniffles came from a shallow trench beneath the thick leaves. A lone figure sat in it, tears rolling down his face and leg twisted painfully in the wrong direction. He whispered out into the woodland, his words swallowed up by the silence and lost as soon as they arrived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm curious as to what you think were the circumstances for this scene. Why was Tubbo running? Why did he hide? Why did he apologize? (there's no wrong answer since even I don't know how it ends)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Breathe In Breathe Out | Alternate Prompt: Water |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>why did I think this was a good idea, once again it's already tomorrow and I'm still three stories behind</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You can’t just blow it up!” Tommy shouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes I can, Tommy.” Wilbur argued back. The two stood on either sides of a rickety wooden bridge. A full moon beamed silver light down on the two players, almost as bright as the torches they held. The forest and hills surrounding their little clearing were dark as well. Underneath them lay a river’s dark waters, not even the light from their torches penetrating its murky depths. Wilbur stood facing the front of the secret entrance to Dream’s weapons shack, hidden by a wall of dirt. Inside lay enough materials to support the entirety of Pogtopia, not to mention the stacks and stacks of TNT lying among them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Manburg was once our home, Wilbur. You can’t destroy it!” Tommy pleaded with his former mentor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur whirled around angrily at hearing the name spoken aloud. “DON’T. Call it that.” He snarled, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke in fast, frenzied sentences. “That place is not our home. From the MOMENT that we lost the election, it became our enemy!” He laughed, causing chills to go down Tommy’s spine. “Last chance, Tommy. Will you join my side?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-- No!” Tommy said. “Have you forgotten the times we had there? All the memories we made?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, stop trying to be on the ‘right side’ of history.” Wilbur taunted. “We’re already the villains in their books. It’s time to fucking act like ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t do it, Wilbur. I won’t fight them.” Tubbo’s face popped into Tommy’s mind. He couldn’t fight Manberg when Tubbo was in danger of being caught in the crossfire. He couldn’t even bear the thought of Tubbo being hurt by the explosions Wilbur was planning for. There was just too much collateral damage for this to have a good outcome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Wilbur’s face held no trace of a smile. “I’ll do it myself then.” He turned back towards the shack and stepped off the bridge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy knew that Wilbur wasn’t going to stop of his own accord. He drew his bow, the enchanted weapon glinting eerily in the combination of fire and moonlight. “Wilbur.” He warned. “Step away from the entrance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur halted. “Or what?” He said, clearly amused by Tommy’s efforts to keep him away from the explosives. “You’ll kill me? I don’t think so.” Tommy hated the fact that he was right, but he didn’t lower his bow in the hopes that Wilbur bought his act. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed. “I’m afraid it’s come to this, then.” He drew his own crossbow, bolas instead of an arrow loaded into it. Before Tommy had a chance to react, he fired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rope hit Tommy in the shins, binding his legs together. Two of the three stone balls flew past him and into the water, while the thirt hit the wooden bridge and bounced. The momentum of the balls pulled Tommy in with them, so quick that he only had time to throw out an arm and shout, “Wait--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water hit him hard, stinging his back from the impact. The cold was next. It seeped into his clothes and through his hair like fingers made of ice. The shock stopped him for a moment before he realized that he was being pulled downwards by the bolas still attached to his feet. He struggled with the rope, managing to get one leg free, but his other one was still being dragged down to the river’s bottom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic filled his systems. This could be the end of him if he didn’t act quickly. Tommy batted at the rope around his right ankle, trying to grasp the taut string and untangle it from himself. His lungs screamed for air, but the bolas prevented him from swimming up. His fingers missed the rope again and again, numb from the freezing water. He was running out of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his lungs finally couldn’t take it anymore, he reflexively drew in a breath of icewater. The liquid burned his lungs, causing him to cough and draw in more. He gave up his attempts to untie himself and clutched at his throat instead. His eyes rolled backwards into his head, unconsciousness dangerously close. Is this how it ends?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above the water, Wilbur watched as bubbles rose to the surface of the river. The bubbles slowly decreased in number, then stopped coming altogether. He scoffed, then opened the door to the shack and walked in. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damned shame. Poor kid had so much potential</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Vilbur !!<br/>(I know that I write for Tommy a lot, but there's been a bunch happening on the Dream SMP and it takes up most of my thought process. I promise there'll be more hermitcraft/dream team stories later on!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Is Something Burning? | Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kjdf i'm sorry medical professionals i'm really winging it here</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sapnap absolutely hated the Nether. It was loud, dangerous, incredibly bright, and worst of all: hot as fuck. The Nether was his absolute least favourite place to go, yet here he was.</p><p>Sapnap stepped through the swirling purple nether portal, already bracing for the wave of heat that would hit him as he entered. You’d think that the nether would stink as well, what with all the rotting pigmen around, but it was surprisingly scentless. Yep, this place was pretty miserable. </p><p>Sapnap checked the list of items they needed that he’d brought with him. He muttered the name of each item as he read it over. “Thirty-two magma cream, two stacks of blaze rods, two stacks of quartz, some gold, three wither skulls.” Goddammit. He was going to be here a while. </p><hr/><p>Sapnap landed on the nether brick floor and broke into a sprint, running as fast as he possibly could. Above him, four wither skeletons followed his trail. One broke its leg in the fall, leaving only three to pursue the fleeing player. Sapnap huffed in annoyance. He could probably take two, but three were still a problem. </p><p>Jumping the gap between bridges, Sapnap continued his dash through the fortress. Wither skeleton number two tripped over the side of a bridge and tumbled down into the lava below, but the last two were persistent in their chase. They copied each of Sapnap’s movements, causing him to barely maintain his ten-block lead. He turned a corner to find that the path was cut off, a pool of lava beneath him stretching out as far as he could see. Sapnap whirled around to face the remaining skeletons. They barreled towards him at full speed, fixated on him and him only. When it seemed certain they would crash into him and shove him over the edge, Sapnap simply stepped to the side and let their momentum carry them off the edge. They landed in the lava with a small sploosh, sinking beneath the surface almost immediately. <em> Well, </em> Sapnap thought, <em> that was pretty easy </em>. </p><p>He pulled out the list of items he needed and went through them again, just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. “Magma cream: check. Blaze rods: check. Quartz: check. Gold: check. Skulls…” <em> Shit. </em> He was supposed to get the last skull from one of the skeletons that was chasing him, but got ambushed and forgot all about it. <em> Whatever. </em> They had two at home, and there was probably one lying around in an ender chest or something. He looked up from the list and spotted his own nether portal on a bank not far from where he stood. <em> Ah, perfect. </em> Apparently the nether wasn’t that big of a place. </p><p>Sapnap drew a stack of dirt from his inventory and began forming a staircase down to the portal. He took his time, not wanting to fall into the molten rock below. When he finally reached the netherrack below, he was exhausted and so ready to go back to the overworld. He’d probably been gathering supplies for a full day, having saved himself a few hours by trading for quartz with a piglin. Oh, how nice it would feel to lay his head down on a pillow, surrounded by air that wasn’t scorching. Lost among his daydreams, Sapnap tried to put his list away, but accidentally knocked a skull out of his crammed inventory. He tried to grab it midair, but missed. The skull rolled towards the lava lake, increasing in speed with each second. Sapnap made a mad dive towards it-- he could <em> not </em> lose that skull. The skull rolled within pixels of the lake before Sapnap grasped it in his hands. He let out a relieved breath. Now <em> that </em> was close. </p><p>The next three seconds happened in slow motion. Sapnap stood up, skull in hand, and moved to drop it inside his inventory. No sooner had he stowed it safely away than a hand shot out from the lava lake and grasped his ankle tightly-- the hand of a wither skeleton. Lava poured from the crevices in the hand, bright splashes coming in contact with his clothing. Sapnap screamed, shaking his foot in an attempt to break it loose, but the hand held on tight. </p><p>Now here’s a few things you might not know about lava in the Nether. In the overworld, it’s slow and sluggish, so if it was splashed on someone’s clothing it would bounce off without major damage. Here in the Nether, though, lava moves four times as fast. The molten rock burned through Sapnap’s pants in seconds, setting them aflame. His final rational thought was to draw his sword and slice at the hand, snapping it at the wrist. The hand went limp, releasing Sapnap’s foot and falling to the netherrack ground. Sapnap felt almost relieved at the sight-- then he smelled it. </p><p>The pungent aroma of burnt flesh filled his nostrils before he felt it. His pants were still on fire, burning a trail up his leg slowly but steadily, and his foot… his foot was covered in ashes? How did ashes get here? Suddenly, excruciating pain blossomed from his ankle and Sapnap understood. Those were the ashes of his dead skin, burnt away by the wither skeleton’s lava-dipped hand. He crumbled, not being able to stand on his injured leg. Forgetting that water was useless in the Nether, he pulled a water bucket from his inventory and poured it out in the hopes of finding relief, but cried out in anguish when the water instantly evaporated in to hot steam. Spots danced in his vision as he pulled himself across the Nether’s floor to reach the swirling purple portal that was barely fifteen blocks away. </p><p>Pain. All he could feel was pain. Not just in his leg, but everywhere. The netherrack under him scraped his skin, the rough rock tearing into his hands where he pulled on. His vision started closing in on him as he desperately heaved himself towards the portal. <em> No! </em> He wanted to shout. <em> I’m so close! </em> His entire body screamed back at him in protest. The torture had no end. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe--</p><p>Then relief. Sweet, cold air blasted him in the face, ruffling his hair ever-so-slightly. He collapsed on the ground outside their home portal. The pain was instantly gone, replaced by a strange frigid feeling. <em> I made it. I fucking made it. </em></p><p>“Sapnap!!” He could hear noise, people yelling his name. He looked up to find George and Dream standing over him, concern and horror clearly painted across their faces.</p><p>“Oh my god, what happened to you?” George said, staring in shock at what remained of Sapnap’s foot. Sapnap didn’t have the energy to answer, falling limp on the grass again. He could hear George stifling a sob, knowing that he probably thought that Sapnap had fainted.</p><p>Dream dropped down to his knees silently, pulling out a healing potion and spreading it across his charred ankle. He turned Sapnap so that he could rest his head in his lap, and when Sapnap met his eyes he could see that Dream was crying. </p><p>“Sapnap, what happened?” Dream said softly, tears dripping down his cheeks. The tough front he put on so often crumbled at the sight of his friend like this, and the empathetic speedrunner was reduced to a teary mess. </p><p>Sapnap smiled slightly. He knew that he was going to be okay, now that his surrogate family surrounded him and held him in his arms. His conscious state flickered in and out as he spoke, voice raspy but still full of the signature snark. </p><p>“Nothing much.” He answered, letting the irony of that statement sink in. “I may have forgotten a foot, though. And a wither skull.” He stared at his friends, eyes slowly closing. “I better have a hella cool scar when I wake up.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quick PSA: I am not discontinuing this project. Yes, I may have to drag it into November a little bit, but I am filling every prompt whether my tired brain can take it or not. Just know that I have a crap ton of homework and the stories might come out a little late.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Into the Unknown | Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The prompts remind anyone else of Varian?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>George stared at the empty vial in Dream’s hand in disbelief. Nothing remained of the glowing green liquid inside. Dream had drunk it all. George took off his goggles and backed away from the other player. That potion was dangerous, and there was no telling what it would do to Dream. He hadn’t even had a chance to test it yet! Dream didn’t move, though, standing still with his eyes closed and arms held up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” His voice held traces of impatience as well as anger in it. “Why didn’t it work??” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I t-told you not to drink that!” George stuttered out. “I haven’t tested it yet, p-plus it’s dangerous to just ingest things that you don’t know about--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me.” Dream’s voice dropped to a dangerous low. “You told me that this would help me beat Technoblade.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I didn’t!” George tried to reason with the speedrunner. “I told you that it’s a prototype drug for sense enhancement, to make players stronger or faster or--” He was rambling, obviously panicking. “I didn’t say anything about beating anyone!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why hasn’t it made me stronger?” Dream dropped his arms, but kept his eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s a prototype!” George said, growing nervous at Dream’s tone. It had never sounded so… threatening. “Look, if you’re still upset about the duel--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DON’T FUCKING TALK ABOUT THE DUEL!!!” Dream screamed at George. He’d never yelled at him before, not like this. It sent George scrambling backwards, glancing quickly towards the exit. Dream stayed where he was, eyes still shut and looking peculiarly calm considering his previous outburst. “Now step out of my way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” George moved in front of the exit door. “I can’t let you leave until we get whatever it is you drank out of your system.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said.” Dream repeated. “Out. Of. The. WAY!” He opened his eyes and a bright green light filled the room. His iris, pupil and sclera were all the same shade of blinding green. The room shook with a blast that threw everything backwards, sending George flying into the wall. Dream walked towards the door to outside, not seeming to care that he’d tossed his friend like a mere ragdoll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s head throbbed. He knew that he had to stop Dream from getting out that door. George drew his bow, nocking an arrow and aiming at Dream’s left thigh. He muttered an apology and let the arrow whistle through the air, staying true to its aim. The arrow landed with a meaty thunk, burrowing itself inside Dream’s flesh, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he reached behind him, bending his arm at an impossible angle and ripping the arrow from his skin. He didn’t even bleed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.” Dream intoned. He turned and raised a hand to imitate a chokehold towards George. The goggled man rose into the air, a phantom grip around his throat. He choked, struggling for air as the man he once thought his closest friend evolved into a ruthless monster. Dream chuckled, the sound repeating on itself in a deeper, much more sinister voice. “Is that all you got?” He released George, letting him fall to the ground, and walked out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing George saw before losing consciousness was Dream’s back. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>no talk, he angy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day | Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>uh oh evil schlatt again</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Please, Quackity, you don’t have to do this!” Fundy exclaimed, cowering away from the man with the bow. Quackity stood over the foxperson, aiming directly at his head with a loaded crossbow. The small cell surrounding them made Quackity slightly claustrophobic, but he couldn’t worry about that now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shoot him.” Jschlatt said from Quackity’s right. His voice held no trace of emotion, nothing to indicate he felt for the prisoner at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I’m begging you, let me live!” Fundy sobbed out from the floor. He was backed up so far against the mossy stone wall that he seemed to almost merge into it. His fur was dusted brown from the ever-present dirt in the air, dulling the bright orange colour. His coat was ripped multiple times and his hat was missing. He truly was a poor sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity glanced at Jschlatt, lowering the crossbow slightly. “Are- Are you sure we should..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt turned to face the vice president, clearly impatient with how things were going. “Just fucking shoot him already. How hard is it to pull the trigger??”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just, ah, I don’t know, Schlatt, do we really need to--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“QUIET.” Schlatt whirled on Fundy, who had been sniffling loudly in his corner. Both Fundy and Quackity shut up instantly, Quackity more from instinct than reflex. Schlatt turned back around to face Quackity, then continued talking in a normal tone. “Of course we have to kill him. I mean, look at this little chickenshit. He’d go running back to Wilbur the second he had a chance. We need loyal people here in Manburg, not some fucking coward.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity nodded, knowing that arguing with the President when he was in this kind of mood was useless. He raised the crossbow back up to Fundy’s head, finger on the trigger. Fundy’s protests increased in frequency and volume, begging dearly for his life. Quackity hesitated once again. He’d never actually killed before, and it made him slightly queasy. He was taking another person’s life, for fucks sake. Was this really necessary?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Bam</b>
  <span>. Fundy abruptly stopped talking. He slumped forward, arrow protruding from his forehead. Quackity stared in disbelief at Jschlatt, who was already stowing his crossbow back in his inventory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, Quackity.” The horned man said. “We have other things to do.” He exited through the stairwell up and out of the prison cell. Quackity was shocked. How could Schlatt act like this after murdering a man, like it was no big deal? He felt nauseous, but pushed it down. It was in this moment when the Vice President began to doubt the leader of his country, but he knew he could do nothing to stop Schlatt. Quackity followed the horned man out of the cell, Fundy’s desperate calls still ringing in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was he really on the right side of history?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't usually go back and read through scenes as short as this, so if you notice grammar or spelling mistakes let me know! greatly appreciated &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. I Did Not See That Coming | Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>now from the top, make it drop, that is pretty angsty<br/>grap some tissues, do not stop, that shit's pretty angsty<br/>i'm talking pain, pain, pain<br/>that is pretty angsty<br/>pray this story do not flop, cuz it's pretty angsty</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eret walked down the rough dirt path, whistling a happy tune to themselves. They walked in a slow pace, taking the time to enjoy the wonderful weather that presented itself to them. The sun shone brightly down on Manburg, spreading its bright rays into every alley. It made Manburg seem almost peaceful. </p><p>They skipped past an ominous cobblestone building, one of the only things that seemed not to be cheered up by the sunlight. Eret stopped, confused as to why they hadn’t noticed the building before. Was it new? On a whim, they decided to go check it out. They had nothing else to do, anyways. </p><p>As Eret drew closer to the building, they could hear voices talking. There were two people inside the building, talking to each other in quiet voices. They couldn’t quite distinguish who was inside, so they drew closer. There was a two-by-one whole in one side of the cobblestone wall. Eret’s instincts told them to not be seen, so they hid just behind the corner of the hole. The voices were slightly more distinct now, but Eret still had to struggle to hear them. </p><p>“--You can’t lie to me, Tubbo.” One voice proclaimed, clearly the dominant one in this conversation. </p><p>“You’ve gotta believe me, Fundy, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” The other voice responded. </p><p>“I’ve seen those letters, Mr. Right-hand-man, I know what you’re up to.” </p><p>“I seriously don’t know what you mean. What letters??” </p><p>“The ones on your desk. White envelope, adressed to one ‘Wilbur Soot’. The contents discuss plans to blow up the festival, and I’m pretty sure that counts as treason.” </p><p>Eret bit down on their cheek to stife a gasp. Those letters were theirs. They must’ve  accidentally left them in Tubbo’s office. Fuuuuuck. </p><p>“I…” Tubbo seemed just as stunned as Eret was. </p><p>“Yeah, that’s right.” Fundy said, and though Eret could not see him he imagined Fundy had a smug look on his face. “Now, I <em> would </em> report this to the president, but I’ll give you a second chance. If you can pay me 500 diamonds by tomorrow, I’ll stay quiet.” </p><p>“Five hundred??” Eret could hear the disbelief in Tubbo’s voice. “You know I don’t have that type of money!” </p><p>“Well, I guess you better have it by tonight, then.” Eret could hear footsteps getting closer to the hole at which they stood. They quickly rushed around the side of the building, taking care to stay quiet. Fundy stepped into the open sunlight, stretching his arms out like he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked around, then walked off in the direction from which Eret came earlier. Tubbo seemed to have stayed inside the building, since they didn’t come out. </p><p>Eret placed a hand on their mouth. Fundy’s words still rang in their head, making it difficult to think straight. Tubbo was being blamed for Eret’s letters, and would likely be executed if Eret didn’t admit to owning them. On the other hand, if they confessed Fundy would immediately report them as a traitor-- for the second time, no less. Eret knew how Fundy thought, and it went something like this: <em> I can coerce the right hand man into doing things for me, but there’s no sense keeping it a secret if a lowly commoner is the culprit. I could just report them, and maybe I’d get a promotion in Schlatt’s ranks. </em> </p><p>This was some deep shit they were in. Even if they could get the diamonds for Tubbo, what was there to say that Fundy wouldn’t just ask for more? Suddenly, the day didn’t seem as bright and cheery as it was before. Eret sank to the grassy ground, head in their hands. What were they going to do? </p><p>Suddenly, a thought struck them. They got up from the grass and started to run in the direction of their house. They could send a message to Wilbur asking for help. He’d know what to do. He always knew what to do. </p><p> </p><p>Fundy watched from a rooftop as Eret scurried away from the cobblestone building. <em> Well then, </em> he thought to himself. <em> This is about to get interesting.</em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i have a math test tomorrow, kill me :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Panic! At the Disco | Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay elytras don't really work this way but it's for the plot</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tango stumbled out of Decked Out, cool ocean breeze hitting his face. He took a moment to breathe the salty air in, then spread his elytra and rocketed off towards his base. As he flew, he checked his to-do list to see what chores he had left. A pleasant surprise greeted him-- he had nothing left! Tango smiled, closing his eyes to feel the cold breeze on his face again. This was the first time since Decked Out opened that he had the afternoon all to himself, even if it was only late afternoon. It still felt good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes to realize that he was flying quite far above the ocean. Panic froze Tango in place for a little bit before he glided down closer to sea level. Heights had always made him slightly terrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling out another rocket, he was disappointed to find that he only had three left. Bummer. That meant he’d have to fly up high and glide downwards slowly to get to his base. Tango shuddered a bit at the thought of going up so high, but nothing could be done about it. After all, he didn’t want to get stuck without a mode of transportation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tango lit all three rockets at once, shooting into the sky at an incredible speed. He passed through a cloud, letting the wet air descend upon his face like mysterious space dew. As he reached the peak of his flight, he made the mistake of looking down. The ocean was far, far below him. His hands started to clam up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look straight ahead, just don’t look down--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud snap startled him. He looked over his shoulder to find that his elytra had popped out of the straps that held them in place, lifting off of his back and sending him into freefall. Tango hollered out a string of curses as he fell, desperately searching throught his inventory for anything that might save him, but not even a totem of undying was present. Tango felt his chest start to tighten, and he took progressively shorter and shorter breaths as he continued to fall through the clouds. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god. I can’t breathe. Somebody help me!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tango tumbled downwards, his momentum flipping him in circles. He tried to scream out an SOS, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. Tango closed his eyes, a tear slipping from his eyes as the ocean grew nearer and nearer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is this how I die? Is this it for me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It felt as if an elephant was sitting on his chest, pain from not being able to draw in oxygen spreading throughout his entire body along with paralysing fear. He clenched his fists. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tell my friends I love them…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The whoosh of an elytra. Someone caught him in their arms and carried them away. Tango opened his eyes out of surprise to find Bdoubleo100 carrying him across the ocean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoo, that was a close one.” Bdubs said, looking down at Tango. “Lucky I was ther to save you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tango, still reeling from the panic, managed a forced laugh. “Hahah, yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bdubs looked concerned. “Tango, are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really, no.” Tango dropped his gaze, worried about what Bdubs would think of his fear. It was a stupid thing really, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The hermits’ main mode of transportation involved heights, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it? I mean, we could head to my base and just chat if you’d like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s ok, I’m okay.” Tango lied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bdubs sighed. “But you’re clearly not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine, okay.” Tango stared off into the distance, making sure he wasn’t staring downwards. “I’m…” He hesitated for a moment, then worked up the courage to finish his sentence. “I’m afraid of heights.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really!?” Bdubs exclaimed. “Me too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tango was startled. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, everyone has their fair share of fears on this server. It’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Bdubs grinned. “For example, our dear old mayor has some weird aversion to nylium. Said it tasted weird.” He murmured in a joking manner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tango smiled, this time genuinely. It felt good to know that he wasn’t alone in his phobia. “Thanks, Bdubs.” He said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problemo.” Bdubs chirped. “My base? I have snacks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, snacks sound good.” In his slightly distracted state, Tango noticed that he wasn’t as afraid anymore when he looked at the ground from this height. In fact, he was quite enjoying being carried through the heavens. He chuckled to himself, realizing the irony in his situation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess I’m just glad I have such great people for friends</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"mysterious space dew" might be one of my best phrases ever</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Broken Hearts | Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s guilt |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wilbur Foot angsty times</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wilbur sat on the edge of his bed, feet on the floor and head in his hands. His room was a mess, clothes and weapons littering the floor. The items in his inventory were no less organized either, with bits of stone and dirt from the explosion still sitting in threre. There was nothing he could do to escape the truth that gnawed at him from the inside out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no windows in his room, the primary light source being a lantern hanging from the ceiling. There was no way to tell what time of day it was from inside unless you were counting the seconds. 73980 seconds since the festival. 73981 seconds since the fireworks. 73982 seconds since he lost them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur clutched his hair in his fists tightly, making his scalp hurt from the tension. He dug his fingernails into his skull, only adding to the dull headache that was throbbing inside. Strangely, the pain felt good, as if he deserved it. He released his hair, knowing he didn’t deserve anything for letting this happen. Not even pain. Wilbur buried his face in his hands. Thirty six hours ago he knew the answer to everything. Now, he wasn’t sure if he even knew himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, he grabbed his pillow and threw it at the far wall, letting out a scream of anguish. The pillow hit the wall with a soft thump, sliding to the floor. Wilbur proceeded to tear his bed apart, scattering his sheets across the already dirty room. He threw the sheets to the floor and screamed again, letting out all of his emotions in an agonized cry. The cry turned into tears as he sank to the floor on his knees, not caring enough to stop them from flowing. 74088 seconds. 74089. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fat tears fell from Wilbur’s face drop after drop. His hands hung by his sides, resting slightly on the floor. He sobbed out incoherent sentences, angry at the world for everything. For taking his friends from him. For leaving him alive in their places. For making him suffer. When he was sure that he could cry no more, the L’manburg flag on his wall caught his eye and a fresh bout of tears cascaded down his red cheeks. His throat was raw and dry, yet still he wept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” He managed to choke out. “I just want them back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The scene played out before Tommy and Wilbur in slow motion. Tubbo stood in the executioner’s box, clutching at the fence that kept them in. In front of him stood Techno, crossbow loaded with a firework rocket. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ready.” Schlatt ordered, Quackity beside him. Wilbur wanted to scream at them to stop, but doing so would blow his cover. He prayed that Techno had some sort of plan to get them out of there. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aim.” Wilbur glanced at Tommy and found that he was clutching his sword with bone-white knuckles. The teenager started with wide eyes at the podium, not taking his eyes off of Tubbo. From inside their box, Tubbo looked up and spotted them on the rooftop. Wilbur could see their eyes were full of panic even from this far away. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fire.” It’s okay, Techno has a plan. Techno has a--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bang.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Wilbur’s vision was lit up for a moment in bright white light, then faded as the firework went off. He stared in disbelief at the box where Tubbo was supposed to be standing. Nothing. Just ash. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“YOU BASTARD!” Wilbur turned and saw Tommy hurtle off the rooftop and down to the podium. Tears flew from his eyes as he brandished his sword at the party before him. Techno already had another firework arrow loaded, and fired it at Tommy, spearing him straight in the chest. Another flash, another bang, and then there was only dust. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wilbur stood still, frozen. What was happening. Techno had gone berserk now, firing arrows at any player he could see. He picked off each person one by one, his deadpan face betraying no sympathy. The arrow that came for Wilbur hit the ledge in front of him, sending him flying off the rooftop and into the hill behind him. The wind was knocked out of him, and spots danced in front of his vision. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He tried to regain his sense of balance, knowing that he needed to get out of there as fast as possible, but found his legs weren’t responding. Unable to move, he began to count the seconds that flew by with each frantic beat of his heart. One. Two. Wilbur noticed how quiet it was, only the ringing in his ears bringing him any noise. Techno must have stopped shooting. Four. Five. A chuckle burst its way out of Wilbur. It was all just a dream, right? There was no way that this was real. Seven. Eight. The shock kept him from standing, so he just sat there, laughing to himself and convinced it was all an illusion. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nine. I’d like to wake up now, please. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ten. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Techno: master of killing his friends and not giving a shit</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Toto, I Have a Feeling We’re Not In Kansas Anymore. | Alternate Prompt: Punctured |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>whoa it's almost halloween???</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grian stood in front of a mirror, tentatively touching his face. He didn’t grimace at the sight anymore. It was an integral part of him, having been there for what seemed like his entire life. It didn’t matter that nobody recognized him anymore. He was his true self. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The mycelium. The mycelium. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Words repeated in his head, looping like a recording. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Resist. The mycelium is the rightful owner of this land.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian shook his head in an effort to rid himself of the voices, but they persisted, coming back even louder. His side throbbed, but he didn’t notice it. The bandages around his torso were of an appalling, severely decrepit state, barely even holding to his chest and stomach any more. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They thought they could just cover it up. If they put grass over it, everything would be okay. They were wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The light in the room was dim. He’d replaced every source of light around him with soulfire, as it was the one thing that didn’t hurt his eyes and skin. The throbbing in his side grew more severe, yet he still didn’t give it any attention. He just continued to stare at his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They called me crazy. They didn’t believe me when I told them about the sickness. They just laughed and wrote it off as one of my pranks. Who’s laughing now, huh??</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A small noise startled Grian away from his reflection. He looked into the darkness, searching for any sign of intruder. His ears told him that it was only a chunk of the mansion falling off again. The building hadn’t been tended to in weeks. Of course it was falling apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I stared, horrified, at the player who stumbled in through my door. His face was a pale white, eyes drained of colour. Tango looked at me with a desperate look in his eyes and crumpled to the floor. He didn’t get up again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian stroked the protruding veins again, barely feeling the touch of his fingertips. He’d gone numb to anything except this long ago. The deep purple veins pulsated, sending a wave of sickly warmth down his body and down to his throbbing stomach. Grian sighed. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The mycelium spikes were scattered through the shopping district, punctuating through the lush green grass every ten blocks. They seemed unnatural, out of place-- but I could do nothing about it. The Mayor told everyone to continue on living normally, like there was no big deal. As if the rocks weren’t shooting out of the ground at terrifying speeds, puncturing anything and everything in their path. As if they hadn’t killed Tango. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian lifted up the fabric of his red jumper, soaked through with a black, viscous liquid. The gaping hole in his abdomen throbbed with each of his faint heartbeats, the bandages around it having fallen off. It tore a wide O from his lower right back all the way through his stomach, flesh torn to shreds and hanging. What was left of his intestines sat behind a thick, purple, veiny membrane that kept them in place. The veins running up from his wound were coloured a deep purple, stretching all the way up to encompass the right half of his face. He should be dead, but he wasn’t. The spores kept him alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I studied the spikes. I conducted experiments. I tried to educate everyone around me, but they all turned their backs on me. Cowards. They couldn’t see what I see. Because of their ignorance, they fell prey to the toxic spores that seeped into their blood from every cut the black rocks inflicted. Not me. I was chosen for something greater. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grian lowered his jumper again, not bothering to smooth the wrinkles out. It stuck to him, soaking through with his dark, spore-infested blood. The spores called out to him, begging to be fed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kill. Kill. The mycelium must spread.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Their voices tore at the insides of his skull, desperate to be satiated. Grian smiled to himself. He closed his eyes, responding to the spores with his mind. The infected veins on his face pulsated with a happiness only he could understand, and spread past his nose and up into his hair. They protruded from him like carvings-- perfect, beautiful sculptures. He opened his eyes to look back into the mirror once more. The player in the mirror stared back, skin fading from pallid to deep purple where the veins touched. His eyes were barely even gray now, having lost their colour to the sickness that ravaged his body. He grinned, and the player in the mirror grinned back. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They will pay for ignoring me. Come, my spores, it’s time to feed. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>!high likelihood I will continue this story! if you have the time, let me know if it's a prompt you're interested of seeing more of :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. I Don’t Feel So Well | Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>prepare yourself, this one's bittersweet</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Badboyhalo limped through the hallways of his and Skeppy’s mansion, trying not to spill his glass of water. His wooden crutch dug into his underarm, but there was nothing he could do about it. Outside, the mansion was covered in a thick layer of snow. Snowflakes fell from the sky in large clumps, two feet of them already stacked on the ground. On a normal day, Bad would have been sitting by the fire sipping hot cocoa and resting his head on Skeppy’s shoulder. This, however, was not a normal day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad’s leg throbbed with each step taken, the wound still hurting him after all these months. He was injured during a mining trip in October when a skeleton shot him in the lower leg. It had been a simple cut, one that needed stitches but a simple cut nonetheless. Bad had refused any health potions, saying that the muffinteers shouln’t waste resources on him. Reluctantly, they agreed to drop the subject. They were low on supplies, anyways. A few hours had passed, Bad failing to realize that the arrow was coated with a wither potion and covering it up with a few haphazardly placed bandages. His leg gave out shortly after. The only thing that kept him from losing his leg entirely was a spare instant health II potion George had in his inventory, though by the time Bad felt the healing effects his shin and lower thigh were barely functioning. Now, two months later, he was still having to deal with stabbing pains and a crutch to hold his weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bad sighed, wishing the door to his room was closer to the stairs. He took slow, shuffling steps towards the door, the water in his cup threatening to spill over with each jostle. Skeppy wasn’t due back from his supply run for another 30 minutes, so that meant Bad was all alone in the house. When Skeppy had first heard about the injury, he’d barely left Bad’s bedside. The player went to extreme lengths to make sure Bad was comfortable, even stealing a pillow from Technoblade. Nevertheless, Bad could tell that Skeppy was losing hope of Bad’s leg ever fully recovering. These days, Bad felt more like a burden than a friend. That was why Skeppy was gone for hours at a time to fetch supplies-- Bad couldn’t get them on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, Bad felt dizzy. His leg stabbed him with a burning pain, remeniscent of that of the arrow. He instinctively let go of the glass of water. It shattered against the quartz floor, sending water and bits of glass everywhere. His crutch slipped out from under him and hit the floor too with a resounding wooden thunk. Bad slumped against the wall, one leg not being enough to hold him up. His leg continued to burn, and he cried out in pain. His vision swam in front of him with nausea to accompany the swaying. Bad fell to his knees, one hand clutching his head and the other on his leg. He felt like he was going to be sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad?? Bad, are you up there?” Bad looked back towards the stairwell, a ray of hope presented to him. Skeppy must be home early! Bad tried to respond, but the dizziness only got worse when he tried to speak. He managed to whimper out a feeble “here” before collapsing the final bit onto the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps could be heard coming up the staircase onto the second floor. “Bad!?” Skeppy exclaimed upon seeing his injured friend laying on the floor. “Oh my god, what happened to you??” He immediately rushed to the fallen player’s aid. “God, you’re freezing! Let’s get you to bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next few minutes were a blur, Badboyhalo only vaguely remembering being carried into bed and given some tea. He was swimming in and out of consciousness, thought the tea did taste really nice and stopped the pain in his leg. He felt really cold, and Skeppy must have seen him shivering for he fetched a second blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skeppy.” Bad mumbled, drowsy and disoriented. “That was some good tea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?” Skeppy brightened, happy that Bad was still able to speak. “It had some regen potions in them. I got it from the village near us. I also--” He dug into his inventory, pulling out some strange bottles, “Got an antidote! To counteract the lasting wither effects!” Skeppy beamed at Bad, who could tell that underneath the cheerful facade Skeppy was worried sick. He tended to ramble when he was scared, either for himself or for others. Still, when the news of an antidote registered in Bad’s brain he felt relieved. Maybe he could finally walk again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’great, Skeppy.” He replied, the tiredness slurring his speech. “You’re a good muffin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good muffin too, Bad.” Skeppy lightly stroked Bad’s head. His voice had calmed to a more subdued tone, knowing that Bad was tired from the effects of the regen potion. He planted a soft kiss on Bad’s forehead. “Now you sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“G’night, Skeppy…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skeppy watched Bad for another minute, the half-demon sleeping soundly. He felt afraid for his friend, knowing that the collapse wasn’t a good thing, but now they had hope for recovery in the form of the medicine he’d purchased. Maybe things would improve after all. “Good night, Bad.” He whispered. “Sweet dreams.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>idk I just liked the snow</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You? | Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>How I imagine Schlatt's death would probably go</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jschlatt sat at one end of the long table, Wilbur at the other. A great fire crackled underneath the massive chimney, illuminating the table laid out with beautiful food. They were the only two in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we agree that the land we’ve discussed is now Pogtopia’s property?” Wilbur crossed his arms in an offensive manner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that’s right, but only if you turn over Tubbo.” Schlatt replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what will you do to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He will be charged to the fullest extent of the law.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of dead silence. This debate had been going on for an hour uninterrupted, Wilbur arguing for the freedom of Pogtopia and Schlatt not-so-politely declining. Both diplomats had reached a compromise where Pogtopia’s residents would be cleared of all charges as long as the former right hand man was returned back to Manburg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Wilbur said after a hefty pause. “Deal.” Schlatt was surprised. This was almost too easy. He smiled a satisfied sneer, leaning back into his chair. Finally, someone who knew how to settle a debate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s decided. We’ll meet tomorrow at dawn for the exchange of players.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur raised his glass. “To a deal well made.” He waited for Schlatt to do the same, which he did. They both downed their drinks in unison and placed the glasses back in their respective spots on the table. Schlatt looked at Wilbur to find that he was… smiling. Could this be what Wilbur wanted as well? Maybe he wasn’t as attached to the kid as he seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it hit him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt’s chest started to burn fiercely. His throat started to close up, barely able to suck panicked breaths into his lungs. He tried to get out of his chair, but only succeeded in falling out. What was this???</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur calmly got out of his seat and walked over to stand in front of Schlatt. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Schlatt met his eyes to see them full of pleasure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-how…” He wheezed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How I got the poison in your drink? Simple. A few well placed moles, such as perhaps your dear vice president who is so incredibly loyal to you.” Quackity? No… It couldn’t be. Wilbur continued to monologue, Schlatt’s vision fading in and out of focus the whole time. “It’s funny, because the effects fo pufferfish venom present themselves the same way as a dried kelp overdose. They’ll never figure out who did it.” Wilbur took on a mocking tone, walking in circles around the dying Jschlatt. “Poor Mr. President, smoked too much kelp and died as a result. Too fucking bad for him.” He dropped to his knees and grasped Schlatt’s reddened face in his right hand. His expression was laced with a smug sort of insanity as he spoke in a low tone. “Long live the king.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt didn’t respond. The last thing he heard was Wilbur calling for help, feigning a worried shout. Fitting end to a presidency, he thought. Beaten by my best foe. Good play, Wilbur. You’ve beaten me once and for all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>guys I'm finally caught up... and I'm feeling... fucking awesome! I can finally get some goddamn sleep! goodnight (or good morning) to all you sweethearts &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. What’s a Whumpee Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here? | Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dreamnotfound is my religion. (Along with church prime, I'm not a heathen /j)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a late night, the sun having set hours ago. George walked through the hallways of his and Dream’s house, ready to go to bed and just making sure that the lights were out. He noticed that there was still light coming from the end of the hallway where Dream did most of his work. Curious, George popped his head into Dream’s study. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taller player sat in front of his desk-turned-crafting-bench, intently studying an object that sat in front of him. A lantern stood flickering by his side, the candle burnt down to a mere stub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, Dream, what are you doing still up?” George pondered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just finishing up some stuff.” Dream responded, sounding a little bit off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream.” George said, coming up next to him and placing a hand on his back. “Did you drink strength potions to keep yourself awake again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm? No.” Dream said, averting his eyes. George reached out and turned Dream’s face back towards his and found that he was indeed giving off strength particles. They floated out from the only exposed skin he ever showed, and that was only at home. Dream covered up every inch of his body, going so far as to wear gloves and a full face mask even at home. George had failed to realize exactly how tired he looked under the mask since he barely ever took it off. The only way he’d guessed that Dream was taking strength pots was because he’d done it in the past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Dream, you really need to sleep. It’s not good for you to constantly pull all-nighters.” George said, noticing how Dream’s gaze wasn’t fully focused on him or the object he was holing. “What are you even doing, anyways?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream held up the empty glass bottle he was holding. “I’m trying to improve the strength of the glass so it doesn’t shatter. What does it matter to you, anyways?” George, startled by the dramatic change of tone, stepped back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was only trying to help--” He started to say, but Dream cut him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away. I’m trying to concentrate.” The speedrunner snapped, and returned to intensely studying the vial in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George felt hurt. Dream had always been closer than a friend to him, more like a brother. Him, Dream and Sapnap loved each other so much, and the bond persisted even when Sapnap moved out to share a house with Karl. They argued often, but it was more friendly jousts than it was serious. It was very rare when Dream yelled at anyone, but he did have a habit of losing his temper after a  particularly bad day. George decided to leave him be, knowing that by persisting he’d only make the situation worse. “Okay.” He muttered, then turned to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to reach the door when he heard Dream get up from his chair. “Wait.” Dream said, and George could tell he regretted sounding so harsh without turning around. He stayed facing the door, knowing that Dream would come to his side. “I’m sorry about being nasty. You’re right, I should go to bed, it’s late and--” Dream’s dialogue suddenly cut off, and George whirled around to find him falling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream!” He shouted, and caught the unconscious player in his arms. Dream’s head lolled backwards, limp. George panicked for a moment, wondering what might’ve caused this. He tried to control his breathing and think, staring worriedly at Dream as if he was going to melt away before his very eyes. That’s it! The strength potion’s effects must have worn off, causing Dream to pass out from exhaustion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently pulling Dream up into his arms, George carefully made his way out of the office and into Dream’s bedroom. He laid the sleeping man down and tucked him in, not bothering to undress him beforehand. George made sure that the smiley face mask was sitting on the bedside table, so when Dream woke up he’d be able to see it. He stroked the blonde hair out of his face, taking one last look at the freckles on his nose and the bags under his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should’ve paid more attention to you, shouldn’t I have?” He whispered, knowing full well that Dream couldn’t hear him. “Well, whatever it is, we can talk about it in the morning. I know you wouldn’t just not sleep if nothing was bothering you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was about to leave the room and close the door when he had a thought. “And just so I can make sure you sleep alright…” George climbed under the covers next to Dream, pulling them up to his chin. He listened to Dream breathe steadily, the oddly comforting sound slowly lulling him to sleep. “I’ll be right here.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was reading this back and noted one of two things.<br/>1. I wrote "Curious, George" and seriously can't get over it<br/>2. should've made gogy say "sweet dreams" but hey i gotta sleep too</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. You’re Not Making Any Sense | Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, in this story Philza is a part of the SMP. <br/>!IMPORTANT! A few really quick notes on how I envision MC rules: <br/> - Logging off means you leave the world that you're currently in to travel amongst other servers. You can return any time. When you log off, you're transported to a road between worlds. Think of that place from the Chronicles of Narnia with all the pools of water. The worlds will be displayed when you walk, and you can even create your own. You can enter places like Hypixel from here. That's my interpretation of the "select world" screen.<br/> - In this set of fics permadeath is a thing, and whatever injuries you sustain come with you across worlds unless there are rules against it, for example a Hypixel minigame. There, the injuries aren't actually real because of the use of command blocks against it. You can carry injuries you've previously obtained into the minigames, and you'll leave with exactly the same injuries as you had before. <br/> - When you die (permadeath rules), you become a spectator. It's basically hardcore mode but all the time, but players don't know about this, allowing for religion and such to exist. <br/> - I'm planning to make an explanation doc of my personal mc rules, sorry if this is a bit confusing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Tubbo’s journal, October 24th</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever thought about what it would be like to be blind? Or deaf? Ever wished it upon another person, or even yourself? Ever had it just cross your mind and think, “Oh, those poor people. I’m glad I’m not them”? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been sixty three days since the blackout. The glitches are almost gone now, hopefully forever this time. I’ve found that writing my thoughts down is a really good outlet for me, and I’ve been keeping track of everyone’s progress over the past few days. The server is… quite a mess, if I’m being honest. I suppose I should tell you about it, then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glitches arrived about six months ago, but barely anyone noticed. They didn’t do much, maybe an item would disappear from someone’s inventory or a ghost block would manifest itself but nothing more than that. It was only when these instances were getting more frequent that the members of the SMP went to Dream about it. He agreed that it was weird and said he’d work on it for a bit. That’s when it started getting so much worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Players would have their whole inventories cleared, suddenly contract the effects of a harming potion, have mysterious wounds appear on them and in some cases even have entire biomes erased. Dream fought them off as best as he could, but they were stronger. There was nothing he could do. It didn’t matter anymore which faction you were from. Manburg or Pogtopia, we were all in this together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One day, a message appeared from the glitched anomaly. It simply read: “We want your world.” The members gathered and discussed the demand, at first unanimously agreeing to not comply. Dream explained that his protective measures only let him pass control over to anyone else. The talking lasted for hours, no one sure how exactly to fight back. Some people began to feel uncertain about the decision to defy the demand, and arguments broke out. No one listened to each other. Dream refused to give in to the anomaly and disbanded the meeting before the disagreements could get any worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philza left that night. His last words to me were after the meeting, standing outside in the chilly dark. “I can’t bear to see them tear each other apart like this.” He said, staring up at the stars. “This whole place is a mess, an absolute mess. Good luck.” I didn’t know what he meant by “good luck” at the time, and I still don’t know now. Good luck fighting off the anomaly or good luck putting the SMP back together? The next morning I woke up to the message that he’d logged off. He didn’t return. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never see him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We continued to endure the torments of the glitches daily, yet still we denied them control. The glitches got angrier with each rejectment. Suffice to say, it came as a surprise to all of us when they suddenly disappeared. Four days with no items vanishing, no injuries appearing. I was wondering whether the anomaly was gone for good this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day of the blackout started out peaceful. It was the fifth day of no glitches, and we were starting to let our guard down. I remember reading when Dream came running into Manburg, shouting something about the chunks. Together with Sapnap, I got him to calm down enough to decipher what he was trying say. He told us about another message from the glitches, warning that if we didn’t want to give them control they would destory our world chunk by chunk. The ground started shaking, and outside the landscape started to disappear. They would just vanish, leaving only a void in their place. I remember reaching for Tommy’s hand, watching as his body was eaten up by the void, then everything went quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Limbo was horrifying. Floating there, unsure if this was life or death. Staring at the blankness I’ll never be able to describe, like a colour you haven’t seen yet. Wondering what happened to the world. It felt like centuries I was stuck there, without a body and without any clue what had happened to my friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We woke up at different times. For some people, this lasted barely a second, and they woke up to find everybody passed out on the ground. I came to in an unfamiliar room which later on became known to me as the infirmary. I’d sat up, shaking but relieved to be back in the material world. It took me a moment to realize how unusually quiet it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I lost my ability to hear. I haven’t tried to speak, either. It’s quite difficult to say a sentence not knowing what you sound like. I’m learning to read lips, and I’ve pretty much got it down. The silence is bearable for the most part, thought. It’s the others that make it hard to live. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream is missing his right arm. He’s been struggling to learn to craft with his left hand, but often gets frustrated and throws things. George and Sapnap both help him as much as they can, but between George’s new narcolepsy and Sapnap’s lost sense of smell they have a lot on their plates already. It’s too dangerous for George to go anywhere without a partner because he might collapse and be killed at any moment, and while Sapnap’s consequence may seem minor he struggles with using a furnace and often burns things by accident, including part of his kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fundy and Eret were the first two to awaken, Fundy’s limbo being almost nonexistent and Eret’s barely surpassing five minutes. Fundy didn’t experience anything out of the ordinary, and doesn’t think that he contracted a consequence. Eret gets stabbing pains in his sides and stomach from time to time, but they go away quite quickly. They were the ones who built the infirmary together. The rest of the server seemed untouched, with every missing item returned to its original chest or barrel. I’d say that Eret’s and Fundy’s torment was being alone, clinging to the desperate hope that their friends might one day wake up but never knowing when that day would come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ll gloss over the other people’s consequences. I hate seeing them in pain, and writing it down doesn’t seem to help. They all got wounds that continue to ail them from time to time, like Karl’s missing toes. Sounds stupid, but it’s hard for him to balance and walk. He uses a cane now. It’s very different here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I will, however, tell you about my closest friends. Somehow, I feel obligated to. Like I owe this empty journal its own bit of sorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy can’t speak anymore. Upon waking up, he tried to yell but no sound came out. I was there when he came out of limbo, I just didn’t understand that he couldn’t speak until Quackity came running into the room to calm Tommy down. Since then, he’s lost his energy. We communicate using our hands, having come up with our own system of signs for different things, but he barely even uses that anymore. I can tell he hasn’t been sleeping or eating. It’s breaking him down, not being able to talk to anyone. Somehow, the perpetual silence grows deeper when he’s around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Badboyhalo… He’s still there, in the infirmary. He’s gone insane. It’s because of the nightmares he gets, they’re so vivid he can’t tell them from reality. We do visit him from time to time, at least I try to, but he gets really violent some times and I… At least he’s still alive. Anyways, Skeppy’s the one who is with him the most. He spends as much time as he can with Bad, which usually isn’t a lot. On his better days, Bad actually lets him in. Skeppy’s consequence is frequent panic attacks. The only reason Bad actually agrees to see him is that Skeppy experiences primarily the same things that he does. They understand each other, just like I understand Tommy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Techno hasn’t come out of his house in a while, so I don’t know much about how he’s dealing with his consequence, but I do know that it’s bad. He misses Phil a lot more than anyone else, which is partly why it’s so hard for him. Both his legs were taken, gone from halfway up the thigh. I’ve tried to let him know that Dream feels the same way with his arm, but he’s shutting everyone out. It’s painful to see him deteriorate like this, especially since he’s kind of like our oldest brother. I’m the one in charge of bringing food to his door every day. It brings me some hope that he’s at least been eating it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have to write about Wilbur now, don’t I? He woke up fairly late. Again, I was in the room with Tommy and Eret. Before he woke he started twitching, and I could see he was muttering things. He sat up with a gasp, shouting things and crying. Tommy and Eret both rushed to his aid, but I hung back, afraid that I would get in the way. I remember he hit Eret in the face by accident. At some point, Eret held him down by the arms and yelled back at him. Tommy signed at me, telling me that Wilbur was shouting out our names and asking where we were. I signed back, asking why he didn’t know we were in the room with him. Tommy looked at me with this look, like he just stepped on a puppy’s tail and couldn’t explain that he was sorry. His hand signs were shaky as he signed his answer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wilbur is blind</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t want to see him. I think Tommy’s angry at me for not trying, but he can’t see me and I can’t hear him. There’s no way we can communicate. I pass by him ever now and then, but only when I’m back in the infirmary. He’s there because of Niki. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niki’s still in a coma. She hasn’t woken up nor moved. Wilbur sits by her side, holding her hand or stroking her hair. I can see him crying. Sometimes I wonder what will happen when she wakes up, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> conseuqence will be. I hope this isn’t it-- her stuck in limbo forever, that is. God, I really hope she wakes up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire server is on a lockdown. Since the blackout, none of us have been able to leave the server. As soon as it’s back up, though, I’m going to find out what happened. I need to know why we were attacked like this, and if there is another server out there that’s experienced tha same thing. And I need to find Phil. This isn’t over. There’s more to this than just a simple anomaly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I have to go. I think Dream is calling a meeting. You know, writing does make me feel a slight bit better. It helps me get a different perspective on the events of the past year. I think I’m going to keep this journal with me, just in case I ever feel the need to write about my thoughts again. And if by any chance you happen to find this entry and there’s nothing beyond it, know that I’m trying. Trying to help everyone, trying to restore my home. We’ll get there eventually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We just need some time. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know if I'm annoying people by responding to their comments :l<br/>It's also possible I'll continue this one, too. It was too developed not to have another chapter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here Thanks | Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i can finally add Karl to character tags now</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>(1)</p><p>Karl walked down the dirt path, rubbing at his temples. His headache from the morning throbbed underneath his skull painfully. He stopped when he noticed an unfamiliar shadow across his path and looked over to see what could be causing it. His jaw almost dropped when he noticed a massive black tower smack dab in the middle of a large clearing, its builder standing at the base. </p><p>Sapnap studied the build, impressed with his own building skills. The building rose high up into the sky, almost touching the clouds. Its blackstone walls glinted in the sunshine, the little pieces of gold embedded in them sending a bright reflection into Sapnap’s eyes. He put his hands on his hips and looked up to where a flat platform sat, built for the sole purpose of observing the landscape around him. </p><p>Karl came to stand by next to Sapnap, craning his neck to see the platform too. “Wow.” He commented. “What a nice… tower you have.” </p><p>“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sapnap asked, still staring at the top. </p><p>“It’s, eh…” Karl glanced around at the ten or so other blackstone buildings in the vicinity. “It’s a bit plain, isn’t it?” </p><p>Sapnap grabbed Karl’s arm without warning, pulling him into the tower and up the spiraling staircase. “Just wait until you see the view.” He dragged Karl along, ascending at an impressively fast pace until they reached the platform above. Sapnap seemed unfazed by the climb, but Karl had to stop and catch his breath momentarily. </p><p>“How…” He panted. “Are you… so… fast..!?” </p><p>Sapnap smiled at him. “When you spend hours building this thing, you’ll get pretty good at climbing stairs.” He pointed out into the horizon. “Look.” </p><p>Karl looked towards where he pointed and gasped. “Wow. That’s beautiful.” The SMP stretched out before him like a panorama, sunlight lighting it up in a beautiful golden haze. He smiled, not knowing that the landscape held this much beauty. He sucked in a deep breath of the slightly chilly air, trying to get his breathing back to normal speed. “It’s a little hard to breathe up here though.” </p><p>“What?” Sapnap said. “Nah, you’re just slow.” He shoved Karl in the arm as a friendly gesture. </p><p>“Shut up.” Karl mocked a pouting expression. He noticed a quiet ringing in his ears that wasn’t there before. It annoyed him severely, as he hated the sound it made. “Hey, can we go back down now? I don’t feel so good.” </p><p>Sapnap stared at him, concerned for his friend. “Not so good how? Are you lightheaded?”  </p><p>“No, actually, I--” The floor started to pitch to the left and Karl stumbled. His head throbbed, and he pressed a hand to his right temple. He felt nauseous, the chicken from earlier threatening to come up and out of his system. “Whoa.” </p><p>“Karl, are you okay?” Sapnap took a step towards him. “Holy shit, man, you’re really pale.”</p><p>Karl tried to regain his balance, but his vision blurred and his feet gave out from under him. “Catch me.” He managed to mumble before collapsing onto the warm blackstone.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>it's not so much a story as a small scene, I just wanted to experiment with how a collapse would happen</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. If You Thought The Head Trauma Was Bad… | Migraine | Concussion | Blindness |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wasn't planning for this to be a part 2 but it fits so here we go</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>(2)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was dark. Not black, just dark. The dark you see when you close one eye and try to focus on the empty space it shows you. Karl couldn’t tell where he was, but the object he was lying on was soft. He assumed it was a bed, judging by the presence of a pillow and thin sheets. He could hear muffled voices round him, and his mouth tasted like vomit. Karl turned his head, but the darkness didn’t get any lighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If he was awake, why couldn’t he see?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Panic started to form in a ball at the base of his stomach. It quickly expanded, flooding up through his chest and making it hard to breathe. Karl gasped in a breath of air. The voices around him grew more excited, having noticed that he was moving. Karl felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, but he jerked away. His anxiety would not let anyone touch him. He flailed out with his arms, trying to gauge the distance between his friends and him-- He didn’t even know for sure that they were his friends. What if they were holding him hostage, having drugged him to make him pass out? More hands on his arms, more frenzied swatting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get off me, get off!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karl!” The first full-clarity word pierced through his panicked attempts to keep everyone away. “Karl, it’s me!” That was Sapnap’s voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t I see??” Karl shouted, not believing for one second that this was really his friend. “What did you do to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t do anything!” Someone said in Eret’s voice. They were standing farther away from where Sapnap’s voice was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why can’t I see you?” Karl responded. “Why can’t I--” His chest closed in upon itself suddenly, making him double over into a curled up ball. He clutched at himself, grabbing fistfuls of clothing and trying to rip it off so he had space to breathe. The hands were back, grabbing at his shoulders, legs, arms, everything. He kicked and thrashed, not letting them get a secure hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karl, stop!” Quackity’s voice said. It was cut short by an “oomph” as Karl’s foot connected with something soft, presumably its face. As Karl struggled, he was overwhelmed by a stabbing pain in his skull and almost threw up. It scratched at his temples, like a caged animal desperate to get out. He screamed out in pain, removing his hands from his clothes and pressing them to the sides of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“GET IT OUT!” He twisted as if having a seizure, getting tangled in his blankets. There was a piercing pain in his neck and suddenly his entire body went limp, having lost all of the energy. Karl felt tired, so tired. He blinked, though the darkness he saw wasn’t dampened by it. A set of hands grabbed each of his limbs, holding them down. Karl was now acutely aware of throbbing scratches on his abdomen and face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I do that? Or did they?</span>
  </em>
  <span> His thoughts faded into a jumbled mess as he drifted off into unconsciousness again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Karl doesn’t know if his friends are genuine or impostors. He sits there day and night, defying food and water for the fear that it might be drugged. Everyone here has tried to convince him that what he’s hearing is the real them, but he won’t listen. Six months ago, I would’ve felt sorry for him, but now… it almost might be better to live in oblivion. I don’t want him to see what the world has become. I can’t imagine waking up after 183 days in a coma and seeing your entire world on fire, the aftermath of a doomsday and the graves of countless loved ones. At least he’s awake. Even if his world exists of only imagined betrayal and constant denial. At least he survived. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>- Signing off, Sapnap. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yoooo I finished early? pog</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Okay, Who Had Natural Disasters On Their 2020 Bingo Card? | Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kind of cliche but it's 1 am once more</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>GoodTimesWithScar sat at his mayoral desk, writing with a feather quill with one hand and drinking out of a warm mug with the other. The tea inside tasted of peppermint and hazelnut, soothing Scar and making him slightly sleepy. Outside, the clouds shed a fierce rain onto the land. The sky was a dark shade of gray, making the day seem tired and worn out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to his office opened and Bdoubleo100 entered, visibly groggy. Scar glanced up from his paper and pen and set his mug down. Bdubs flopped down into the chair facing Scar, eyes half closed and looking like he really missed his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heyy, Bdubs! What’s up?” Scar said, hoping to wake the builder up with his cheerful approach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bdubs stared back at Scar, an incredulous but at the same time vacant expression on his face. “How are you… awake?” He mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s literally 1 pm, my dear friend.” Scar furrowed his brow. “Were you actually still sleeping?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” Bdubs crossed his arms in a defensive position. “20 hours of beauty sleep are of vital importance to me, especially on a rainy day like this!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, Bdubs, whatever you say.” Scar shook his head, returning to his writing. He went to dip his feather pen into the ink pot, but found that his desk was… shaking? “Whoa, what--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without warning, the entire room pitched sideways, the floor coming up and down like a wave. The pot of ink spilled over onto Scar’s writing, bleeding through the paper with a jet black cloud and dripping off the desk. Books fell out of their shelves, some hitting Scar in the head and forcing him to raise his arms as to not get smacked in the face. Bdubs shot out of his chair, grabbing Scar and pulling him under the desk. Scar wrapped his arms around Bdubs’s torso, holding on tight as if the other might vaporize at any second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to get lower!” Bdubs shouted over the cacophony of things breaking and the ground rumbling. “The floor might collapse!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scar nodded, and the two released each other. Most of the books were already on the floor now, so Scar assumed it was safe to stand. He immediately regretted the decision when the ground surged upwards, causing him to stumble and impale his left hand on his quill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!” Scar clutched his injured hand, taking lopsided steps towards the door out. Bdubs followed, rushing ahead and pushing the door open. They managed to get out of the small office before being thrown forwards and almost falling off the railing. Up above, the ceiling cracked and fell, the giant golden road-building trophy falling through and colliding with the diamond throne. Scar’s hands shot up to his ears, the sounds around him almost overwhelming him. His arm was grabbed and pulled him along towards the stairs leading down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurry!” Bdubs dragged Scar towards the staircase hurriedly as the ceiling fell apart on top of them. They stumbled down the stairs, Bdubs slipping and falling down the last two. The shaking grew less intense as they both arrived at the bottom floor. Scar cradled his bleeding hand close to his chest, the leftover ink turning the crimson dark. He glanced at the builder, who had his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whew.” Scar managed to say in between heaving gulps of air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bdubs smiled. “That was… peculiar.” He glanced around the throne room. “Oh, great. Now I gotta clean this place up, don’t I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scar laughed breathily, still slightly in shock about the mini earthquake. “Yeah, I can’t believe the trophy--” He was cut short by the ground caving in. In their exhilaration, neither man noticed the spiderweb cracks that were spreading underneath the diamond throne and trophy. Both items tumbled through the floor as one final acknowledgement to the disaster, taking the floor and one single player with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look out!” Scar screamed, but it was too late. Bdubs hit the ground in the auction hall with a dull thud that was masked by the collapse of the bigger objects. He spasmed once, then ceased moving. His legs jutted out at awkward angles, each pointing in an unnatural way. Scar scrambled back from the edge, shocked and afraid. “Oh no, oh no no no.” He muttered, his brain trying to process the sudden turn in events. “No no no, he was right there!” Scar’s world collapsed ontop of itself while he backed up against the wall. He slid down into a sitting position, burying his head in his hands. The stab wound in his palm throbbed horribly, spreading blood into his light brown hair, but he didn’t care. “He was right there, he was right there…” Scar rocked back and forth. His fingers interlaced with each other on top of his messy hair, numb from the shock. Now he knew what they meant when they say it all happens too fast. One second you’ve just escaped a collapsing room, and the next your best friend is falling to their death right in front of you. He rocked back and forth, outside stimuli fading into nothing as he repeated the sentence one more time, like saying it again would make it any less real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was right there…”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The reason every single one of these is permadeath is that my rules for respawning are probably way too overcomplicated lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops. | Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>only three days left of october?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dream skidded around the side of the hill, placing blocks behind him as he went. His mask was sweaty on the underside, but he couldn’t afford to stop and breathe now. The four hunters were hot on his tail, ready to stab him in the back at any second. Dream barely evaded their weapons and arrows, tearing across the grass in an intense sprint. He scrambled up the next grassy incline like a spider, but still the hunters persisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Dreeeeam!” He could hear them mocking. He smiled, doubling his speed and ascending the mountain as fast as he could. Game on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream reached the top of the mountain in no time, though his stamina was starting to wear down. Glancing around, he noticed that the mountain cut off above a stone plateau far below. Dream cursed to himself as he realized that he didn’t bring a water bucket with him. He searched his mind for any alternative way to weasel himself out of this situation, but came up empty handed. Fuck. He stopped at the tip, resting his palms on his knees and taking a moment to catch his breath. The rest of the team came to a stop behind him, not close enough to hit but enough to stop him coming back down that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got you now, Dream!” Sapnap teased, sword nicking Dream’s ankle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, there’s no where for you to run!” George added. The hunters closed in on him slowly, knowing that he had no option other than to surrender. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ant smirked. “Give up yet?” Dream narrowed his eyes behind his mask as he turned to face the four, stepping dangerously close to the edge of the mountain. His pride got the better of him and he took one more step towards the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope!” He said, his brain working a mile a minute. He had no haybales, there were no endermen around…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Dream?” His thought process was interrupted by Bad, who had his bow down and was staring nervously at the ledge. “Would you mind stepping away from there? You could fall.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Dream looked down, realizing he was a breath away from falling to his death. “Oh, yeah sure, I--” As he was about to take a step forwards, a bat flew by his face. It flapped its wings in his eyes and flew away, momentarily blinding him. Dream stumbled backwards, losing his footing and finding only empty air. His arms flailed as he tumbled backwards and over the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dream!” He could hear people scream his name as he fell through the sky. He braced for impact, knowing that there was no getting out of this. No more return for the legendary speedrunner. The crazy thought occurred to him that he hadn’t even been able to get any mushrooms crossed his mind and he laughed to himself. Of all the things to think about while falling to your death. Mushrooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shadow fell across his vision. Dream saw another blurry figure jump off the ledge, following him down. He panicked,seeing no reason that one of the hunters would take their life with his. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He wanted to shout. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are you doing?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he’d hit the ground any second now. His back hit first, landing in--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Water?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A splash of water appeared where he landed, softening his fall. His tailbone still hit the stone painfully, but not anywhere near the lethal velocity it was at before. Moments later, Bad landed practically in his lap. The little demon grinned, looking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knew it.” Bad said. “Silly muffinhead.” The empty water bucket sat in his dominant hand. He pulled Dream into a tight hug, burying his head into Dream’s shoulder. “Don’t ever do that again.” The two players sat drenched in each others’ arms, sharing a sort of bonding moment over their shared near death experience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Dream heard a shout from up above. The remaining three hunters looked down upon them. George had his hands around his mouth and was calling out to the two below. “Are you alright down there??”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Dream showed them a shaky thumbs up. “Thanks to Bad!” He couldn’t tell from this far away, but George seemed to heave a massive sigh of relief and rub his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good! Then Sapnap’s here crying like a wuss for nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HEY. I saw those tears of yours too!” A smack from the playful punch Sapnap threw echoed down to the wet players below. Bad looked at Dream, already calmer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rematch?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Dream said, silently promising to be more careful. “Rematch.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>a bit of a lazy chapter but I was watching Eret's strawberry dress stream</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. I Think I Need A Doctor | Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>&gt; had no inspiration for this<br/>&gt; finised it and it still turned out pretty good</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s been two days. Why won’t you let me see him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not ready yet. He needs to rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> resting for 48 hours. Please, just five minutes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Five minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stepped into the hospital room, taking in the sterilized whiteness of everything. The nurse closed the door behind him, shutting out the noise of pagers beeping and people talking. There was a large window situated on the far wall. Even though the curtains were drawn, light still filtered into the room and illuminated the sparse furniture. There was a small dresser made of dark wood, assorted medical equipment, and a padded chair next to the lone hospital bed. The bed had three of its four rails up, leaving an open space next to the chair. The person under the blankets lay facing the ceiling, though he didn’t move when Wilbur entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil?” Wilbur said, hesitantly edging towards the bed. Phil finally turned his head towards Wilbur, smiling when he saw the tall man. He motioned with one hand to the chair beside him. The heart rate monitor on his index finger froze Wilbur for a second. Hospitals weren’t his thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heeey, Will.” Phil said with his signature greeting, though it came out sounding soft and weak. “How are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh--” Wilbur stuttered. “How am </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing? You just went through surgery. I should be asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> that question.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil chuckled, a look of pain momentarily crossing his face. It seemed like every little movement hurt him. “Seriously, I’m fine. I shouldn’t still be in here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Settling into the chair, Wilbur scooted closer to the bed and placed his hand on Phil’s. “Phil. I know that you’re not as okay as you’d like me to think. You just collapsed, went into surgery for 5 hours, came out and slept for another 36 and then woke up presumably in a lot of pain.” He stared into the bedridden man’s eyes. “I’m worried about you. We all are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil sighed and stared at his blankets. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ll probably be getting out in another few hours. You shouldn’t be concerned for my health--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t be concerned?!” Wilbur stood from his chair abruptly, causing Phil to flinch. “Phil, you just had </span>
  <em>
    <span>surgery</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You passed out right in front of me. I could barely dial 999, I was so afraid for you. They rushed you into the emergency room so fast I thought you were going to actually die. They put a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>tube</span>
  </em>
  <span> in your mouth to help you breathe. And then-- oh ho, and then the nurse comes out and tells me you have some sort of fucking internal bleeding--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will, calm down--” Phil tried to speak, but was cut off. The beeping of his heart rate monitor kicked up a notch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm DOWN? No, I’m not going to FUCKING CALM DOWN.” Without a warning, Wilbur collapsed back into the chair and put his head in his hands. The silence sat thick in the room for a moment, Wilbur breaking it after a few seconds. His head was held down, muffling his words slightly. “I--” His voice broke. “I was so scared, Phil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur felt a hand touch his wrist. He looked back up to see Phil reaching for it, regretful look on his face. The tears that stung his eyes stayed unshed for a moment as he took the hand, gripping it tightly. A lone droplet rolled down his left cheek, mirroring the one on Phil’s. The apology between them was silent, for there was nothing that needed to be said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a sore throat.” Phil said after a long pause. “I’ll be okay, but maybe some tea would be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur smiled. “The nurse told me you’ll be here for an entire week.” Phil nodded in confirmation. “I’ll miss you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can get someone to bring in my monitors.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. The nurse was right about one thing. You should rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil pulled a face. “I’ve been resting for </span>
  <em>
    <span>forty eight hours</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He said in a horrible imitation of Wilbur’s voice. Wilbur was surprised. He didn’t know the walls were that thin. Hopefully no one noticed him shouting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well rest some more then.” Wilbur smirked at his friend. “I’ll bring you takeout later on, if that nurse lets me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay.” Phil released his hold on Wilbur’s hand, allowing him to stand up. “I guess I’ll… sleep, then. There’s not much else to do around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stood still for a second, thinking. “You know, I could stay here and keep you company. If the nurse didn’t hear me yelling, she’s probably not at the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Phil responded. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>for any unus annus fans out there-- 15 days left, how we feeling</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Woke up to 420 kudos, nice<br/>(tysm for the kudos aaa)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sound of explosions filled the cool evening air, sending rows of chairs flying into the sky. Niki ducked as debri flew over her head. She sprinted towards the nearest building she could find. On the podium, TechnoBlade laughed maniacally while he fired firework arrows into the crowd. They rained upon the bystanders that fled to shelter. Niki rounded the corner of a brick house and practically collapsed against the side, heartbeat thrumming in her ears. She fought to catch her breath and process what just happened. <em> He’s gone insane </em>, she thought to herself. </p><p>Screams alerted her to Techno stepping off the edge of the podium and wading through the wreckage of the seats. The explosions continued, though farther away this time. Niki peered around the edge of her building and up to the podium. Her eyes settled upon the bright yellow box and she gasped. <em> Tubbo </em>! He must still be in there, most likely alive. Techno had whirled upon the audience so fast there was no way he could’ve fired at Tubbo beforehand. Niki took in her surroundings, trying to find the best possible route towards the podium without drawing Technoblade’s attention. She opted for sneaking behind houses until she reached it. </p><p>Carefully traversing the hill, she managed to climb up to the box that imprisoned Tubbo. Schlatt lay across the wooden fence that sealed off the entrance, blood dripping from his mouth and stomach and a bloodied sword in his hand. Niki pushed his body aside to see if Tubbo was ok. He sat inside, seemingly in a daze but thankfully unharmed. She sighed in relief, chopping away at the wooden fence and pulling him out. She took his hand and pulled him away from the box, towards the edge of the podium. “Come, we have to get out of here.” </p><p>Tubbo followed her without an objection. They reached the side of the podium and dropped down, the three-block high ledge hiding their view of Techn oand the exlosions. Niki pressed herself against the wall, motioning for Tubbo to do the same. She strained her ears to check for signs that Techno may be coming after them, but found that even the sound of explosions was gone. </p><p>Niki turned back to Tubbo and pulled him into a tight hug. “That was close!” She said to him, but her excitement faded when she felt something wet pressing up against her side. She pulled away to find red blood on her shirt. Niki panicked for a second, thinking she’d been shot, but realized that she didn’t feel any pain. Her eyes slowly lifted to Tubbo.</p><p>“T-Tubbo..?”</p><p>The boy swayed in his spot, eyes unfocused. Without warning, he fell to the ground onto his back. Niki rushed to his side and pulled away his black jacket to reveal a dark stain spread across his white shirt underneath. She immediately took off the sweater wrapped around her waist and pressed it against his wound. Tubbo lay staring at the sky, not reacting to her frantic attempts to stop the bleeding. What could’ve cause this?? Niki thought back to Schlatt’s body laying across the entrance to the box. The sword… </p><p>“Tubbo!” She yelled. “Stay with me, please, talk to me, Tubbo!” </p><p>Tubbo moved his head to once side. “Wait, what are you doing?” He said, voice weak. “M’fine, I don’t feel any pain…” His words started to slur. </p><p>“No!” Niki screamed. “Stay awake, just keep talking to me!”</p><p>“I’m okay…” Tubbo opened and closed his eyes slowly. The blood from his stomach wound was seeping into the grass now, colouring it in crimson red. Niki felt tears roll down her face as she tried in vain to keep him alive. A strange look crossed his face for a second, and he spoke again in a soft, almost sleepy tone. “Tommy? Where’s Tommy? Did Wilbur blow up the festival?” He shifted his head from side to side. “Am I…” Realization dawned on his once-cheerful features. “A-am I going to die?”</p><p>“Shut up, you’re not going to die, you’re not going to die--”</p><p>“It’s okay.” A small hand came to a rest upon Niki’s bloodied ones. Tubbo met her eyes and smiled. Somehow, Niki knew that there was no saving him. She released the sweater and pulled him into her lap, cradling his face. Her fingers spread bright red across his cheeks, but she didn’t care. Tubbo looked up at her, eyes already closing. “Telll… tell everyone I l-love them.” He whispered. “Could you… sing to me?”</p><p>A choked sob wrenched its way out of Niki. Her hair fell across her face in a tangled mess, and she pulled him close. “Of course,” She whispered back. “Of course I’ll sing.” The sounds around them faded to nothing, an invisible bubble of their own little world. She opened her mouth and the melody sprung into her head as if it always belonged there. </p><p>“I heard there was… a special place…” </p><p>And then he was gone. </p><p>She barely even got to start.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>based on the festival, yes I know I'm a bit late but hey it's angst</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Today’s Special: Torture | Experiment | Whipped | Left For Dead |</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yoooooo final chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Now, let the game begin!”</p><p>Four players sat in a circle, facing each other. Two other anonymous players circled the group, one with a sword in hand and the other with a lead. The players in the middle were tied down, hands bound to a wooden stool. The stool was bolted to the floor, not budging when the players struggled to get out. There was a circle drawn in the middle of the players’ circle, split into four colours: red, yellow, blue, and green. </p><p>“Please, just let us out.” George begged, trying to follow his kidnappers’ movements with his head. </p><p>“We won’t tell anyone.” Karl added. </p><p>“You know the rules.” The first anon repeated, smiling smugly underneath his black mask. “Pick a colour, and we’ll see who will get hit. First one to pass out wins your freedom.”</p><p>“Why are you doing this?” Eret pleaded. “We’ve done nothing to you.”</p><p>The second anon chuckled. She twirled a finger around her short, curly red hair, toying with it. “Let’s just say it’s a sort of… experiment.” </p><p>There was a beat of silence as the four captives looked at the colours in front of them. It was broken by Tubbo, who shakily pointed at the yellow quarter. “I-I’ll go first.” </p><p>“No!” Eret said. “Tubbo, there’s no way any of us are choosing.”</p><p>“You heard them, if we don’t, then all of us die!” Tubbo shifted in his kneeling position as he talked, clearly uncomfortable but resolved in his descision. “We have to choose. They said they’d let us go.”</p><p>Karl looked as if he was about to cry. George tried to scooch himself over to comfort Karl, but the stool prevented him from doing so. George instead settled for contributing to the argument. “Yeah, they said that they’d let us go, but what is there to guarantee that? They could just kill us all afterward.”</p><p>The red haired anon chuckled and put one hand on her heart. “You have my word.” She said, mocking the prisoners. </p><p>George closed his eyes and pointed to green. Karl stared at him, wide eyed. “Wait, you’re picking?” </p><p>“We have to. This way we have a small chance, if any.” </p><p>Eret sighed, looking away. They then pointed to red. Shaking, Karl picked the last colour. The anon with the black mask began to laugh, the almost-innocent sounding noise quickly turning into a devilish cackle. He twirled his sword and revealed a six sided die, which he proceeded to throw to his partner. She caught it with one hand, clutching it in a fist. The captives watched her with baited breath. Her fingers uncurled slowly to reveal the result. </p><p>“And the winner is… Red!” She shouted, imitating an announcer at a ball game. She let the lead in her hands uncurl, dropping it to the floor. Eret tensed as she walked around the circle and came up behind them, stopping just out of his range of sight. The lead came down on their back at lighting speed, causing them to bend over their stool and yell out in pain. The rest of the group flinched visibly, Karl with tears already gathering at the corners of his eyes. She then squatted down to their head height, grabbing their face with her hands. Her red acrylic nails dug into their cheeks, and they tried to tilt their head away as she whispered in their ear only loud enough for them to hear. “<em> I bet you liked it. </em>”</p><p>Eret twisted their head out of her grip and spat in her face, causing her to jerk away. She stood back up to full height and wiped her face with one of her long, black sleeves, giggling to herself. The masked anon watched her, tilting his head to the right. “Alright, Cerise, enough playing. Time to pick the next one.” He turned his head back to the captives. “Pick a different colour.” They complied. George, not wanting to draw attention to himself, silently mouthed “Are you okay?” to Eret. They responded with “I’m fine.”, which was immediately followed by a wince. </p><p>“Onyx. Catch.” Cerise tossed the die back to the masked anon. It landed in his palm and he held it out for everyone to see. “Blue!” Cerise shouted. Everyone looked towards George. </p><p>“Argh!” The whip struck like a snake, hitting George with an ear-splitting crack. He bent over his stool just like Eret did.He wasn’t prepared for the second strike, which followed after a second of pause. </p><p>“George!” The other three shouted in unison. Cerise giggled once more, enjoying the fear in their eyes. </p><p>“Oops.” She teased. “I forgot to mention it doubles every time.” </p><p>“Wait.” George said, words slightly muffled by his hunched over position. “Why are there six sides to the die if there are four of us?” </p><p>Onyx answered in a bored monotone, itching to get back to the torture. “The other two are pink and black. Pink means we let you go, black means we hit all of you. Pick another colour.” </p><p>The die was tossed, and Cerise caught it with an extra bit of flair. “Red again!” She turned to stare at Karl. He trembled like a leaf in the wind, looking back at her with wide eyes. As she came to stand behind him, he squeezed his eyes shut and began to mumble things in a terrified voice. </p><p>“Please, please, please, please, please, pl-Augh!” Four swift cracks. A tear slipped from his eyes as he cried out. Eret strained against their bonds, glaring daggers at their capturers. </p><p>“Fuck you!” They shouted. “You sick bastards get off on this, don’t you? Don’t you??” </p><p>Onyx only tilted his head back to laugh again. “Pick.” He repeated. </p><p>  Tubbo looked at Karl, who had his head down and was heaving ragged breaths. The whip had torn through his shirt, leaving thick red marks on his back. When Karl didn’t point to a new colour, Onyx huffed in annoyance. </p><p>“PICK A COLOUR.” He shouted, Karl’s head shot up and he pointed to green immediatlely. His face was streaked with tears of pain and fear. Tubbo felt the sight wrench at his heart. He closed his eyes and withdrew his finger, pointing at himself instead. </p><p>“Pick me.” Tubbo softly muttered. Cerise smiled. This was a new development. </p><p>“What was that?” She said, feigning innocence. </p><p>“Pick me!” Abandoning his hesitance, Tubbo shouted at her with determination in his eyes. “Just hit me.” </p><p>“What..?” The other captives stared at him. Cerise stalked over to him, whip in hand. Tubbo braced himself for the first hit, knowing that it wouldn’t be easy. </p><p><b>Crack</b> . Tubbo barely refrained from crying out. He could hear the others gasp with worry for him, and it only further set his resolve. <em> One </em>, he counted. </p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Two</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The second hit came in at just the moment when Tubbo felt like the pain from the first blow was at its worst. He whimpered, unable to keep silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Three</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Tubbo clenched his fists, his knuckles turning a bone white. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Four</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The white hot stripes on his back forced tears from his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Five</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He screamed, the agony crawling up his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Six</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He could hear his friends pleading with Cerise. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seven</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Black spots appeared in his vision. He trembled, vision getting dark around the edges. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s it!</span>
  </em>
  <span> If they kept hitting him, he was sure to pass out, and that meant they would let his friends go. “Don’t stop!” He shouted, hearing a giggle of glee and cries of disbelief from the others. “I can take it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eight</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His vision got dangerously dark, but didn’t send him into unconsciousness. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost there.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Again!” </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Tubbo’s throat was raw from screaming, yet he continued to shout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo, it’s not worth it!” Eret yelled. Tubbo ignored them. He had to save his friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ten</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eleven</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Stop stop stop! Stop it, you’re killing him!” Karl sobbed, watching Tubbo’s body go limp. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Crack</b>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Twelve</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No response from the boy. Cerise stopped striking for a few moments, taking a second to survey her handiwork. The kid bled from multiple different gashes, a bruised and cut mess spread to encompass his entire back. She thought about it for a moment, then hit him one more time. Tubbo jerked once, but didn’t respond. If he wasn’t out before, he was definitely unconscious now. The three remaining captives stared at him, mouths open from shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Onyx caught her eye. “Should we let them go?” He said. “He fulfilled the quota.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cerise put a hand on her chin. It was awfully quick. She contemplated her options. “I think…” She paused for dramatice effect, a wicked smile spreading across her face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is an interesting group</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I think that we go until only one is awake.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who said she had to keep her promise? </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHAHA WAIT I FORGOT TO ADD THE REST OF THE CHAPTER KJFKLGDS pain</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Afterthoughts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whoa. That was it. That was october. It feels like it went by awfully fast in my opinion.</p><p>Shortest Story: [3] My Way Or the Highway (431 words)</p><p>Longest Story: [24] You're Not Making Any Sense (1918 words)</p><p>Personal favourite: [24] You're Not Making Any Sense</p><p>Okay, I'm going to bed at a reasonable hour tonight and not touching a keyboard for another six months. Goodnight everyone. </p><p>ALSO THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT HERE. It's been a wonderful if not tiring month for me, and I hope every single one of you awesome people have a great Halloween. Stay safe out there! </p>
  </div></div>
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